\ 


TESTIMONIAL. 


WE  the  subscribers,  for  the  benefit  of  strangers,  most 
cheerfully  testify  to  the  worthiness  of  this  intention  of  the 
author  to  relieve  himself  from  pecuniary  indebtedness,  to 
which  he  is  continually  subjected  as  an  invalid;  and  we 
would  assure  the  benevolent  and  charitable,  that  any  aid  he 
may  receive  from  the  sale  of  this  volume,  or  otherwise,  will 
afford  immediate  relief  to  one  who  has  experienced  long 

years  of  unusual  and  constant  suffering  in  darkness. 

I 

(Signed,)        CHAKLES  BURROUGHS,  Portsmouth,  N.  H. 
A.  P.  PEABODY,  "  " 

WILLIAM  LAMSON, 
HENRY  D.  MOORE,  Portland,  Me. 

J.  W.  BONHAM,  Lowell,  Mass. 

MOSES  GRANT,  Boston,  Mass. 

T.  STARR  KING,  "          " 

ALVAH  HOVEY,  Newton  Centre,  -Mass. 


FRAGRANT    FLOWERS, 


OTHER    [POEMS. 


BY 


DANIEL   A.   DROWN, 

PORTSMOUTH,  N.    H. 


'  Dark,  dark  is  my  pathway,  if  bright  the  sun  shine, 

And  the  pale  moon  ride  in  her  chariot  above, 
Yet  the  flowers,  the  birds  with  their  music  are  mine, 

And  mine  is  the  converse  of  friends  that  I  love. 
Why  then  should  I  weep,  when  they  speak  unto  me 
Of  the  beauty  and  grandeur  I  never  may  see? 

1  That  I  never  may  see !  O,  no  !  I  have  hope 

In  ONE  who  will  yet  turn  my  steps  to  the  light ; 
Not  always  in  darkness  my  spirit  shall  grope, 

For  the  glory  of  heaven  shall  burst  on  my  sight, 
When  that  morning  shall  dawn,  oh  !  then  shall  1  see 
The  beauty,  the  brightness,  now  hidden  from  me." 


BOSTON: 
WALKER,  WISE,  AND  COMPANY, 

245    WASHINGTON   STREET. 

POETS  MOUTH: 
JAMES  F.  SHORES,  JR.  AND  JOSEPH  H.  FOSTER. 

1860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

WALKER,    WISE,   AND    COMPAN  7, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridge : 
Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  and  Company. 


DEDICATION. 


THOUGH  these  Flowers  have  silently  bloomed  in  the  val 
ley  of  sorrow,  encompassed  with  the  shadows  of  a  painful 
adversity,  and  therefore  may  not  exhale  fragrance  like  those 
which  are  gathered  along  the  sunny  paths  of  health  and 
prosperity,  yet 

THE    AUTHOR 

would  humbly  venture  to  present  this  little  offering 

TO     THOSE     THOUGHTFUL     FRIENDS, 

who  have  so  generously  extended  to  him  their  Christian 
sympathies  and  their  disinterested  benevolence,  as  a  willing 
token  of  his  grateful  appreciation  of  all  their  kindnesses. 


1* 


M189009 


INTEODUCTOEY. 


THE  author  of  the  following  unpretending  volume 
has  a  more  than  usual  claim  upon  the  public,  which  ex 
tends  to  its  sympathy  as  well  as  to  its  taste.  The 
poems  composing  the  book  have  been  produced  from 
the  depths  of  physical  suffering,  as  deep  as  ever  man 
has  known.  While  shut  from  the  light  of  day  by 
worse  than  blindness,  the  muse  has  come  to  him  in  his 
darkness,  and  borne  him  out  among  the  green  and  fair 
things  of  earth ;  and  through  the  transmuting  power  of 
his  poetic  fancy,  the  beautiful  has  become  installed 
where  to  one  less  gifted  all  would  have  been  barren 
despair.  At  the  moment  when  the  world  was  bright 
est  to  him,  and  hope  most  buoyant,  in  anticipation  of 
usefulness  for  which  his  education  had  fitted  him,  a 
painful  disease  of  his  optic  nerves  seized  him,  and 
blotted  out  his  hopes  forever.  He  has  for  nearly  fif 
teen  years  sought  relief  in  vain ;  but  his  heart  has 
never  hardened  with  the  burden  that  fell  upon  it,  nor 
his  mind  lost  its  elasticity  though  his  eyes  were  sealed 


viii  INTRODUCTORY. 

as  avenues  to  its  nutriment.  Like  a  bird  in  a  dungeon 
he  has  sung  his  songs,  and  their  echoes  have  reached 
the  outer  world,  and  the  sympathetic  have  paused  by  the 
way  to  listen  to  them,  touched  by  their  strange  melody. 
This  long  and  drear  confinement  has  involved  ex 
penses  that  he  is  ill  able  to  bear,  that  his  singing  and 
his  faith  and  his  great  patience  have  not  been  able  to 
lift  him  over,  and  this  volume  it  is  hoped  will  prove, 
through  the  kindness  of  friends,  a  help  in-  need  that 
shall  relieve  him  from  the  embarrassments  of  present 
necessity,  and  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door  in  the  years 
to  ensue,  before  he  shall  sink  to  what  will  prove  to 
him  a  welcome  rest. 

B.  P.  SHILLABEK. 
BOSTON,  December,  1859. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

THE  WARRIOR'S  BRIDE     «v     *,;r   .-      jo     .        .        .  13 

FRAGRANT  FLOWERS         .        .        .        ..'....      ....  21 

A  TRIFLING  GIFT     '..       • 22 

MAY  MORNING 24 

MORNING  JOY       .        .        .  '.        .     ^.        .        .25 

THE  WILLOWS 26 

ANGEL  VOICES 28 

A  MORNING  WALK        ..;• 30 

To  A  FRIEND 32 

OCTOBER 33 

A  MINISTERING  SPIRIT 35 

ON  A  DEW-DROP     .......    t  sfOTfA  •-.•••»  ?".  36 

THE  BREATH  OF  JUNE 37 

MOONLIGHT  EVENINGS 38 

THE  SPRINGING  GRASS 40 

O,  SPEAK  TO  ME  KINDLY! 41 

FADED  LEAVES 43 

THE  BRIEF  ANSWER        •...,..  45 

ON  A  LILY 46 

WE  ARE  GOING  HOME     .        .             •  •  v  *'.?..•,,  48 
HAPPY  MOMENTS          .        .        .        ....       .        .49 

THE  SPIRIT'S  WHISPER           .        .        *;       .        .        .  51 

NATURE'S  PAGES          .        .        .        ^    /,  .:      .*,  '.^-o   .  52 

AN  ANGEL'S  VISIT  .        .        .        .                ...  54 

THE  ROSE  BY  THE  WAYSIDE    .        .  .  ,.-;  .55 


X  CONTENTS. 

BUBBLING  ECHOES          ...        .        .        .        ,  \"  56 

MARY  .         .         .         .        .    *'  .        .        v        .         .         .  58 

AUTUMN  LEAVES    .         .        .        .        .        .       -.•        «...  60 

BRING  FLOWERS         ....        .        .        .        .  61 

JESUS,  MY  HOPE    .        .        .        .        .        .        .         .  63 

FALLING  SNOW  . 65 

THE  BETTER  LAND        .        ._       .        .        .        .        .  66 

COME  TO  THE  WOODS        .  CL  .-      v   c    ....  69 

THE  MORNING  SHOWER        .    .   -.-     .  ...   ...   .        .        .  70 

"I  PITY  YOU"  .  ,     , ' 72 

THE  LAST  GOOD-BY        .        .        .        .                 .        .  73 

To  A  FRIEND     .        .        .  '     /       .        .        .  •     .        .  75 

SUMMER  WINDS      .....        .        .        .  77 

To  SUSIE   .        .'        .        .        .     '    .        .""'  .       Y       .  78 

ON  THE  DEATH  OP  AN  AGED  PILGRIM        .        .       '.   '  79 

MY  FIRST  ROSE-BUD          .        .        .        .        .        ^       .  82 

LINES •         .         .  •'     ,;<i'/^  84 

"As  RAIN  UPON  THE  MOWN  GRASS"      .        .        .     -  .  84 

THAT  FRIENDLY  GOOD-NIGHT       .    .  ...      •.        .        .  85 

THE  MUSE'S  RESPONSE      .        .        .       '..        .<        .      '.  87 

THAT  GENTLE  VOICE 88 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  E G .        .        .       '•.  90 

THE  ROSE-BUD'S  LAMENT     .       •.       -. ,      -.        /•  ??C'  92 

A  FAREWELL  TO  GERTRUDE     .       ;.  ,   •.       •.       •.        .  95 

THE  OLD  ELM       ..        »        ..        .,     'M^ii-     .    •     .  97 

THE  HOME  OF  ANGELS      .        -.       •.       -.    ' -  ;•'     .        .  99 

SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW       -.     ...       'i  •'••'<.'    '•.''.,  100 

THE  HEAVENLY  COUNTRY        .        »    ftaJB      .      ..        .  102 

FUTURE  GLORY       .       ..       -.        ..     ••V'-;->.        .        v  105 

"WE  WOULD  SEE  JESUS"         »      !  i  '"  -J  -    v        .        .  107 

THE  SECRET  WISH       ..       ..       ..       •.       •.    >    .        .  no 

LINES  TO  JULIA         .       ..       ..        .       >\-      .       V      .  113 

SYMPATHY       .        .        .        .        ,        ,        4        •.        .  116 

BLIND  ORLEENA'S  SOLILOQUY         .._    ^livvJ  z  '  'v'.^  .  117 

THE  SHINING  LIGHT      .       »               *        .        v-       .  121 

THE  DEATH  or  THE  RIGHTEOUS     .        .        .   ^    .        .  123 

MY  HOME  is  IN  HEAVEN      .        .  "    %        .        .        .  125 
STANZAS      f        •        .                *        ^        .    *     .        .        .127 

ON  A  WHITE  ROSE  129 


CONTENTS.  XI 

To  ISABEL 131 

CONTENTMENT,  OR  THE  BLEST  JEWEL         .        i;  •<>-,. •  •;  134 

PEACE,  BE  STILL!       .        .        .        . •  v,  •:  •. .••-.>.  \ .  •  r*>  -' '"•••  136 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  J.  U.  L.       .  ,     V   ,  ;.        •••  137 

ONE  KIND  WORD  ...      .  . ..;..,,.  140 

ON  A  SLEEPING  CHILD          .,      . .      . ,      ...        .  141 

To  GAROPHELIA ,-  <  '•'•..  ;      .  142 

ANOTHER  YEAR       ....  ,     •.,;      .        ^    •  'k,  143 

ROCKY  GLEN. ..*    ;.  145 

"  LET   THERE   BE   LlGHT  "        .          :«  •*     '.  '••  >.'  •     *•  :*.»  '••!    ''•  .'*l  146 

SLEEP •  '  ..r.-::.  148 

ON  THE  DEATH  or  MRS.  JENNIE  B.  L .        ,  149 

AUTUMN      .                 153 

To  GERALDINE .j  '    ..'  155 

LINES           .         .         ......      ..     .:.•;*%;.;•;<  .  156 

LINES  TO  A  FRIEND      .        .„       . v> -, '.*'•.'.     *      '•'•*'  <;  •-'  158 

No  KEST  FOR  us  HERE     ..       ..       ..       t.       ..       ..  •    .  160 

YES,  THEN  I'LL  THINK  OF  You  .        .        .     .  »        *  162 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  M J F ...  ;>•.;     .  164 

THE  LITTLE  FAVORITE        '  ,.'   «.;:;.  .;.:•-   *;•.:.  166 

A  SILENT  TOKEN      .        .  .      .  ,      .;  .    :.,  re  i      -n\ '•; :;.  169 

THOUGHTS  ON  THE  DEPARTED      .        .;:,...,-.  170 

ON  FRIENDSHIP          ..       ,.       .....        .        .        .  171 

THE  SAINT'S  DESIRE    ....        .        .        .  174 

LINES  . 175 

"THY  WORD,  0  GOD,  is  PURE"          .        .        .        .  177 
FAREWELL  TO  LAVINIA     ....        .        .        »        .178 

A  FRAGMENT          . 180 

To  ANNETTE  ON  HER  BIRTHDAY 181 

THEN  LET  ME  HEAR  OF  HEAVEN          .        .        .        .  182 
LINES  ON  MY  NEW  DRESSING-GOWN        .        .        .        .183 

SNOW-FLAKES          .-       .        .        .        ....        .  186 

No,   NEVER   GIVE    UP              .           .           •   ,        •           •           •           •  18? 

THE  TWIN  SPIRITS       .        .        .       ".._..  188 

AUTUMN  WINDS         .        .  v    .        .        .        .        •        •  190 

IMPROMPTU     .        .        .        .        .        ...        .  192 

To  ALICE    . .194 

"I  WISH  I  WERE  A  BIRD"                   •.        .        .        .  196 

THE  MORNING  COMETH 198 


XII  CONTENTS. 

THE  SUMMER  RAIN        .-      »•      .        .        .        ..  200 

CONSOLING  PROMISE          .•-'',.'."       .        .        .        .  202 

PARTING  WITH  CHRISTIAN  FRIENDS    .        .        . "'      .  204 

CONFIDENCE  IN  GOD         .-••     .        .        ....  205 

AFFLICTIONS  .        .  •     .  -     .  •  -  .        .        .        .        .  207 

HYMN  .  -      .  •      .  •      .'•      .-.'".         .         .         .  208 

A  SPRING  MORNING      .        .  • 209 

LINES  FOR  A  FRIEND'S  ALBUM 211 

To  A  FRIEND         .... •.        .  212 

CHRISTIAN  PILGRIM'S  EXPECTATION       ....  213 

BE  STEADFAST        .        •••',«•      .•      .•      .        •        .  214 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SHEPHERD 215 

"I  WILL  COME  AGAIN"          .-       .-..••       .  •      .'•     .  216 

To  OCTAVIA       ..      .-      .• .-      .V'".  218 

THE  SOUL'S  'ANCHOR     .        .  •      .  ,      .  •      .  -      .  •      .  220 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLEST        .        .        .        .        -•;   :  «'.  222 

VIOLETS 224 

THE  ADVENT  BELL  .        .  -      .        .    -    .        .        .    ,-  .  226 

To  LORALEA  .        .        .  •  •    -.  •       . .       i.    '    .        .  228 

STILL  HOPE  FOR  THE  BEST 229 

I  AM   WEARY   OF   STAYING         .  .  .  .-'  >      .  .<  230 

I  LONG  TO  GO  HOME          .-      *--•',.«   :     f        •        •  233 

LET  ME  REST i    ;        .  235 


POEMS. 


THE   WARRIOR'S   BRIDE. 


ON  the  river's  green  bank,  near  the  edge  of  the  wood, 

The  low  wigwam  of  Meenar  in  solitude  stood  ; 

The  green  boughs  of  the  hemlock  waved  gently  above, 

Like  an  angel  of  peace  o'er  the  nest  of  a  dove. 

Here  in  silent  repose  modest  violets  grew, 

On  whose  fair  tiny  forms  early  glistened  the  dew, 

The  faint  type  of  that  purity,  goodness,  and  love, 

Which  so  freely  distils  from  the  fountain  above,  — 

And  the  carols  of  birds  at  the  morn's  early  gleam, 

With  sweet  silvery  tones  from  the  pure  crystal  stream, 

Their  glad  echoes  united  in  joyful  acclaim, 

As  they  breathed  forth  their  praise  to  the  Great  Spirit's  name. 

The  sweet-smelling  spruce  and  the  balsam  grew  nigh, 

E'er  distilling  their  gifts,  with  a  murmuring  sigh, 

As  the  wind  whispered  through  them  as  mildly  it  past, 

Or  as  sunshine  peeped  through,  and  its  bright  glances  cast 

On  her  face,  as  she  sat,  undisturbed,  by  the  door, 

And  repeated  the  song  of  her  happiness  o'er, 

As  her  small  graceful  fingers  the  green  willows  wrought 

Into  fanciful  forms,  which  her  own  skill  had  taught. 

Thus  contented  and  happy,  one  warm  summer  day, 
When  nature  around  was  all  blooming  and  gay, 
2 


i 4  : •'  :  * ^  E   :w  A*I  R  i o  R  '  s   BRIDE. 

She  sat  on  her  pallet  of  deerskin  alone, 

Thinking  only  of  him  who  that  morning  had  gone 

O'er  the  hill  in  the  distance,  with  arrows  and  spear, 

To  hunt  for  the  bison,  or  swift-footed  deer. 

She  remembered  with  pleasure  his  last  parting  word, 

Which  had  reached  her  warm  heart  and  true  sympathy  stirred, 

As  he  stood  by  her  side,  and  looked  lovingly  down 

To  her  dark  sparkling  eyes,  which  saw  never  a  frown 

Overshadow  the  brow  of  her  own  chosen  brave, 

Who  his  last  breath  would  give  her  dear  life  to  save. 

Thus  the  day  wore  away,  as  with  feelings  serene 

She  there  quietly  mused  on  the  beautiful  scene, 

Which  had  dawned  on  her  life  in  her  own  native  home, 

Where  as  queen  of  the  forest  she  freely  might  roam. 

When  the  shadows  of  evening  grew  speedily  on, 

For  his  coming  she  watched,  with  the  game  he  had  won, 

And  with  long  earnest  gaze  looked  far  o'er  the  plain, 

In  the  hope  of  beholding  her  true  love  again, 

As  the  dark  forest  shade  he  should  first  leave  behind, 

And  employ  as  his  servant  the  fragrant  west  wind, 

To  announce  his  return  to  his  beautiful  bride, 

Who  he  knew  would  be  wishing  her  brave  by  her  side. 

But  night  its  dark  curtain  soon  drew  o'er  the  sky, 

And  the  glistening  stars  peeped  like  gems  from  on  high,  — 

The  murmuring  stream  and  the  whippoorwill's  note 

In  such  mournful  low  cadences  seemed  now  to  float 

On  the  cool  evening  air,  through  the  tall  waving  trees, 

That  the  tidings  of  evil  were  borne  by  the  breeze. 

Still  he  came  not,  —  no  other  sounds  fell  on  her  ear, 

Save  these  two  plaintive  tones,  which  awoke  every  fear, 

And  with  slow  measured  pace  pausing  oft  by  the  way, 

To  discern  if  some  light  could  be  seen  far  away, 

Where  encamped  he  might  resting  in  safety  remain, 

Till  the  morn  should  enlighten  his  pathway  again, 

She  eagerly  listened  the  first  sound  to  hear, 

Which  might  prove  that  his  footsteps  were  then  drawing  near. 


THE  WARRIOR'S  BRIDE.  15 

Still  another  bright  morning  peeped  over  the  hills, 
And  the  sunshine  danced  lightly  o'er  sweet  flowing  rills, 
Yet  no  sign  of  his  camp  on  the  mountain  was  seen, 
And  no  blue  curling  smoke  in  the  valleys  between,  — 
Not  a  sound  in  the  distant  green  woodland  was  heard, 
Save  the  sighing  of  winds  which  the  long  branches  stirred, 
And  the  rushing  of  waters  now  truthfully  seemed 
The  responses  of  sorrow  of  which  she  had  dreamed. 
Disheartened  she  turned  to  her  now  dreary  home, 
Where  all  sleepless  she  sighed  that  he  longer  should  roam, 
And  her  favorite  lays  lost  their  power  to  cheer, 
For  her  feelings  forebode  that  some  danger  was  near. 

When  the  shadows  of  evening  were  gathering  fast, 

And  the  moon  its  pale  light  on  her  wigwam  had  cast,  — 

Which  had  bridged  the  clear  stream  with  its  silvery  light, 

On  which  fairies  might  cross  in  the  stillness  of  night,  — 

A  faint  sound  in  the  distance  caught  Meenar's  quick  ear ; 

And  she  listened  with  eagerness  plainer  to  hear. 

But  deep  silence  seemed  quickly  on  all  things  to  rest, 

Like  an  infant  asleep  on  its  fond  mother's  breast, 

When  a  footstep  much  nearer  distinctly  was  heard, 

In  the  dark  shadows  round,  which  all  quiet  disturbed,  — 

For  no  signal  came  floating  upon  the  still  air, 

To  announce  that  brave  Worba,  the  chieftain,  was  there  ; 

And  before  she  could  turn  from  the  danger  away, 

A  stern  voice  by  her  side  had  compelled  her  to  stay. 

Then  a  band  of  fierce  warriors  gathered  around, 

And  her  delicate  wrists  with  strong  ligaments  bound, 

While  they  mocked  at  her  grief,— whose  sad  tears  were  the  jest 

Of  her  merciless  foes,  who  would  give  her  no  rest. 

Alas,  now,  for  Meenar,  the  beautiful  bride, 
Who  had  thought  to  herself  no  dread  ill  could  betide, 
While  she  feared  but  for  Worba,  her  true  noble  brave, 
Who,  perhaps,  in  the  forest  had  found  his  lone  grave 


16  THE  WARRIOR'S  BRIDE. 

Overcome,  unsuspecting,  by  numerous  foes, 

As  he  lay  in  his  camp  taking  quiet  repose  ; 

For  she  knew  that  awake  he  could  ne'er  have  been  slain, 

So  mighty  his  arm,  so  unerring  his  aim; 

Her  anxieties,  pleasures,  and  hopes,  e'er  so  dear, 

All  centred  in  him  who  had  never  known  fear. 

She  had  thought  but  of  him,  in  the  pride  of  her  heart, 

"Whose  glad  presence  could  always  make  sadness  depart, 

Bringing  sunshine  each  day  to  be  her  fond  guest, 

When  he  lovingly  smiled,  or  her  soft  cheek  carest. 

How  sincerely  she  wished  that  he  now  could  be  .near, 

To  deliver  her  quickly  by  strong  arm  or  spear ! 

But  her  wishes  were  vain,  yet  she  silently  prayed 

That  the  day  of  her  death  might  be  longer  delayed, 

Till  she  heard  of  the  fate  of  the  huntsman  so  bold, 

But  one  half  of  whose  prowess  had  ever  been  told. 

Through  the  deep  forest  shade  then  they  hurried  her  on 

Hasting  quickly  away  with  the  prize  they  had  won, 

Lest,  discovered,  they  might  be  despoiled  of  their  prey, 

When  the  night  with  its  shadows  had  vanished  away. 

Down  the  mountain's  steep  side,  they  unheedingly  fled, 

Where  the  footsteps  of  men  were  known  never  to  tread  ; 

Through  most  intricate  paths  they  pressed  hurriedly  on, 

Pausing  not  till  the  darkness  of  night  had  quite  gone, 

And  sweet  voices  proclaimed  the  first  dawning  of  day  ; 

For  they  dared  not  to  make  but  a  moment's  delay, 

Till  they  reached  a  retreat  in  the  depths  of  a  wood, 

Where,  deserted,  their  camp  in  its  loneliness  stood. 

Here  their  scanty  repast  of  dried  venison  and  corn 

They  hastily  ate  at  the  first  break  of  dawn  ; 

But  more  scanty  was  Meenar's,  all  weary  and  sore, 

Who  now  strove  their  compassion  in  vain  to  implore. 

But  they  could  not,  nay,  would  not  her  plaintive  words  hear, 

Though  they  often  beheld  the  sad  falling  tear,  — 

Though  she  held  up  her  hands  which  were  swollen  with  pain, 


THE  WARRIOR'S  BRIDE.  17 

And  directed  their  gaze  to  her  feet  yet  again, 

Yet  they  heeded  no  sign  which  she  made  for  relief, 

But  rejoiced  in  her  bondage,  and  smiled  at  her  grief. 

To  the  land  of  the  Shawnees  they  still  made  their  way, 

Where  their  loved  hunting-grounds  in  the  great  valley  lay ; 

Where,  all  weary  with  journeying  day  after  day, 

At  the  lodge  of  their  chief  they  now  ventured  to  stay, 

And  delivered  their  captive,  so  beauteous  and  fair, 

That  no  maid  of  the  Shawnees  with  her  could  compare. 

Though  disconsolate,  weeping  and  sad  she  remained 

At  the  feet  of  the  brave,  who  her  service  had  gained, 

Through  the  long  weary  day  no  kind  word  could  she  hear, 

Which  might  serve  to  dispel  her  most  terrible  fear,  — 

No  smile  could  she  see  as  the  token  of  peace, 

And  their  dark  angry  frowns  gave  no  signs  of  release. 

Thus  she  felt  that  some  evil  was  certainly  nigh, 

To  escape  which  she  knew  it  was  useless  to  fly, 

And  she  sat  in  deep  silence,  repressing  her  tears, 

Which  unbidden  would  start,  as  she  mused  on  her  fears. 

When  three  days  had  elapsed  Worba  reached  the  wide  plain, 

Proudly  bearing  the  game  which  his  strong  arm  had  slain, 

Rejoicing  to  come  to  the  home  of  his  pride, 

To  which  his  best  feelings  were  dearly  allied. 

When  he  first  left  the  woodland  he  raised  his  voice  high, 

As  a  token  to  Meenar  that  he  was  then  nigh  ; 

But  he  saw  not  the  form  he  used  gladly  to  see,  j-  s 

Walking  gracefully  'neath  the  familiar  old  tree, 

His  return  there  awaiting  with  many  a  smile, 

As  some  favorite  lay  she  low  chanted  the  while ; 

Nor  the  waving  of  feathers  by  Meenar's  own  hand, 

As  a  signal  to  welcome  him  home  to  his  band. 

As  still  nearer  and  nearer  his  wigwam  he  came, 

No  sweet  song  met  his  ear,  and  no  joyful  acclaim, 

But  the  stillness  of  death  seemed  to  reign  all  around, 

Nor  was  heard  in  the  silence  one  murmuring  sound. 


18  THE   WARRIOR'S   BRIDE. 

As  lie  entered  his  dwelling,  he  proved  his  worst  fear, 

For  his  idol  had  gone,  whom  he  thought  was  so  near,  — 

All  his  furs  and  his  arrows,  his  bows  and  his  spears, 

All  his  wampum  and  feathers,  the  treasure  of  years, 

All  the  relics,  whose  power  and  fame  had  spread  wide, 

Which  belonged  to  himself  and  his  beautiful  bride ; 

And  he  felt  that  no  honor  for  him  now  remained, 

Save  the  name  which  he  bore,  and  the  place  he  had  gained. 

Then  the  dark  thoughts  of  vengeance  soon  clouded  his  brow 

As  in  anger  he  uttered  the  death-sealing  vow, 

In  the  presence  of  every  warrior  brave, 

That  no  rest  would  he  take  till  deep  hid  in  the  grave 

His  dark  foe  by  his  hand  should  ingloriously  lay, 

And  his  deeds  be  unsung,  and  his  name  pass  away. 

Then  selecting  an  arrow  and  drawing  his  bow, 

With  that  skill  which  the  bravest  of  huntsmen  must  know, 

Unerring  it  sped  to  a  tree  which  stood  near, 

Thus  exciting  in  all  strong  emotions  of  fear. 

"  Thus,"  he  said,  "shall  my  spear,  in  the  breast  of  my  foe, 

Drink  his  blood  without  pity,  and  lay  his  form  low ; 

In  thick  gloom  shall  his  sun  go  speedily  down, 

And  above  his  cold  grave  the  dark  cypress  frown." 

Thus,  in  anger  spoke  Worba,  with  dark  piercing  eye, 
As  so  wildly  he  gazed  on  his  lodge,  which  stood  nigh, 
Where,  contented  and  joyous,  his  heart's  dearest  pride, 
Like  a  dove  in  its  nest,  used  in  peace  to  abide  ; 
Which,  deserted  and  silent,  now  seemed  by  its  gloom 
No  more  like  his  home,  but  much  more  like  a  tomb ; 
And  he  breathed  forth  the  words  of  dread  vengeance  again, 
Inviting  no  rest  till  the  lost  he  should  gain. 

With  a  score  of  true  braves,  each  with  arrows  and  spear, 
Who  had  never  betrayed  either  weakness  or  fear, 
He  then  roamed  through  the  wood,  to  discover  the  way 
Which  the  enemy  took  when  they  fled  with  their  prey; 


THE   WARRIOR'S   BRIDE.  19 

But  no  sign  of  strange  footsteps  was  anywhere  seen, 

No  leaves  lately  strewn  on  earth's  carpet  so  green, 

And  no  marks  of  the  tomahawk  made  in  a  tree, 

Nor  the  sign  of  a  camp  on  the  plain,  could  they  see. 

When  the  search  seemed  at  last  to  be  fruitless  and  vain 

A  spear-head  was  found,  which  was  broken  in  twain ; 

Then  new  hopes  filled  his  breast,  and  light  beamed  from  his 

eyes, 

As  he  gazed  on  its  color,  its  form,  and  its  size. 
"  I  have  it,"  he  said,  as  he  scanned  it  anew, 
"  To  the  land  of  the  Shawnees  our  foes  we  pursue, 
From  the  land  o'er  the  mountain,  now  far  in  the  west, 
Where  the  sun  in  its  grandeur  sinks  slowly  to  rest, 
And  from  thence  shall  the  captive  be  speedily  brought, 
For  thus  have  these  omens  propitiously  taught." 
Then,  emboldened  by  hope,  they  unwearied  pressed  on, 
Through  thick  tangled  woodland,  o'er  wide-spreading  lawn, 
Till  they  reached  the  great  valley  which  forests  surround, 
Where  they  hoped  the  fair  lost  one  alive  would  be  found ; 
And  they  lay  in  close  ambush  throughout  the  long  day, 
Till  the  sun's  cheerful  beams  had  quite  faded  away. 
Then  still  nearer  they  drew,  till  a  wigwam  was  seen, 
And  the  light  of  a  fire  the  green  leaflets  between, 
Which  its  bright  golden  glances  unceasingly  flung 
To  the  moss-covered  rock  which  its  site  overhung. 
Though  they  long  watched  for  Meenar,  yet  she  never  ap 
peared  ; 

For  she  mourned  in  deep  solitude  what  she  most  feared, 
In  great  sorrow  recalling  those  bright  joyous  days 
When  she  saw  Worba's  smile,  and  oft  chanted  her  lays, 
As  he  mentioned  the  victories  won  by  his  band, 
And  his  deeds  of  renown  in  an  enemy's  land ; 
Thus  she  still  thought  of  him,  though  so  hard  was  her  lot, 
And  the  proofs  of  his  love,  which  she  had  not  forgot. 
Then  how  eager  ishe  wished  that  his  arm  might  be  near, 
To  avenge  her  distress,  and  her  bondage  so  drear. 


20  THE   WARRIOR'S   BRIDE. 

But  she  knew  not  his  fate,  and  she  breathed  forth  the  prayer, 
If  alive,  that  his  steps  might  be  soon  guided  there ; 
But  if  he  should  rest,  then  she  feared  not  to  die, 
And  with  him  in  the  valley  most  peaceful  to  lie, 
Boldly  meeting  her  fate,  which  erelong  might  be  sealed 
By  the  cruel  death-song,  as  her  dreams  had  revealed. 

While  thus  musing  in  grief  o'er  the  joys  of  the  past, 

And  deploring  the  shade  o'er  her  destiny  cast, 

In  amazement  she  saw  her  fierce  captors  draw  near, 

With  wild  gestures  and  shouts,  which  awoke  every  fear, 

And  her  heart  died  within,  for  her  last  hope  had  fled, 

And  she  mourned  in  deep  anguish  as  one  mourns  for  the  dead, 

Unresisting  they  brought  her,  —  escape  was  in  vain, 

And  they  led  her  before  their  great  chieftain  again, 

Where  the  bright-blazing  fagots,  which  enlightened  the  gloom, 

There  revealed  to  her  sight  her  most  terrible  doom. 

The  death-note  was  sounding,  —  the  chief  raised  his  spear,  — 

Then  unerring  and  sure,  from  the  dark  ambush  near, 

A  sharp  arrow,  sent  swiftly  from  Worba's  strong  bow, 

Piercing  deep  in  his  breast,  laid  the  warrior  low ; 

Then  most  quickly  surrounding  the  treacherous  band, 

By  his  well-chosen  braves,  who  sprang  forth  at  command, 

He  avenged  the  foul  capture  of  Meenar,  his  bride, 

By  destroying  threescore  of  the  merciless  tribe. 

Ere  they  knew  of  their  danger  they  slept  their  last  sleep, 

And  the  earth  the  sad  offering  refused  not  to  keep. 

Then  the  captive,  released  when  all  hope  seemed  in  vain, 

With  loud  shoutings  of  triumph  was  welcomed  again  ; 

And  they  brought  her  with  joy  to  her  own  native  home, 

Where  the  angel  of  peace  might  with  blessing  e'er  come, 

Where  the  smiles  of  contentment  and  gladness  might  reign, 

Never  more  to  be  clouded  with  sorrow  again. 


FRAGRANT    FLOWERS.  21 


FRAGRANT    FLOWERS. 

LOVELY  flowers,  ever  beauteous, 

I  would  prize  thy  forms  so  fair,    ' 
Breathing  out  delicious  odors 

Freely  to  the  morning  air, 
With  a  thousand  rainbows  bending 

Eound  thy  blushing  petals  bright, 
Sparkling  like  the  liquid  diamonds 

In  the  rosy  morning's  light. 

So  may  I,  e'er  looking  upward 

To  the  star-lit  throne  above, 
Yield  an  offering,  like  sweet  incense, 

Of  true  praises  warmed  with  love. 
May  most  gracious  blessings  ever 

On  my  heart  like  dews  distil ; 
Then  more  grateful,  pure,  and  holy,    - 

Be  my  choice  my  Father's  will. 

Fragile  flowers,  with  fringed  eyelids, 

Catch  the  sunbeams  from  the  skies, 
As  bright  favors  which  the  morning 

Joys  to  send  when  evening  dies ; 
Shooting  out  its  golden  arrows, 

As  mid  sunny  clouds  they  play, 
Scattering  with  its  rosy  fingers 

Fragrant  treasures  in  their  way. 

So  may  I,  most  willing,  ever 

Seize  the  truth,  like  sunbeams  bright, 
Shining  through  the  darkened  curtain, 

Which  hides  heaven  from  my  sigh;;. 


22  A     TRIFLING     GIFT. 

May  I  drink  delicious  nectar 
Dripping  from  an  angel's  wing, 

With  a  heart  prepared  to  welcome 
All  the  good  his  hands  would  bring. 

Flowers  may  stay  and  beauty  linger 

But  a  little  season  here, 
Where  are  seen  the  clouds  of  sorrow, 

And  the  sad  desponding  tear  ; 
But  beyond  this  world  of  trouble, 

Destined  never  for  the  tomb, 
Pleasures  yielding  blissful  incense 

Shall  for  us  forever  bloom. 


A   TRIFLING    GIFT. 

A  TRIFLING  gift,  —  one  little  rose, 

Just  bursting  into  bloom  ! 
For  such  the  little  stranger  was, 

Which  came,  with  sweet  perfume, 
To  cheer  me  in  my  loneliness, 

And  drive  sad  thoughts  away  ; 
A  foretaste  of  those  gardens  fair, 

Whose  flowrets  ne'er  decay. 

One  little  rose  !  and  yet  how  much 

This  welcome  gift  I  prize  ! 
No  golden  treasure  ever  seemed 

So  beauteous  in  my  eyes. 
The  kindly  tone  and  look  it  bore 

To  other  charms  gave  birth, 
Enhancing,  as  they  clustered  there, 

Its  own  intrinsic  worth. 


A    TRIFLING     GIFT.  23 

How  oft  one  kind  and  gentle  word 

Will  peace  and  joy  impart, 
And  make  the  warmest  sunshine  glow 

Upon  the  saddest  heart ! 
How  oft  one  trifling  gift  will  speak, 

Where  words  are  needed  not ! 
The  heart  soon  learns  the  thought  to  read 

That  seeks  to  soothe  its  lot. 

Sweet  memories  linger  round  each  flower 

Which  friendship  ever  gave, 
A  holy  incense  floating  o'er 

Each  little  perfumed  grave. 
From  every  withered  leaf  and  bud 

Flows  forth  a  touching  strain, 
Till  voice  and  lute  in  memory's  ear 

Echo  the  soft  refrain. 

I  dearly  love  such  chosen  gifts, 

For  in  them  all  I  find 
A  welcome  balm,  most  sweet  and  pure, 

To  cheer  the  lonely  mind. 
And  nestling  'mid  the  velvet  leaves 

There  seems  some  fairy  fair, 
In  perfumed  whispers  breathing  forth 

The  kind  thoughts  written  there. 

Still  come  to  me,  in  all  your  pride, 

Ye  blushing  roses  bright ! 
Each  petal  can  a  page  unfold, 

My  spirit  to  delight. 
I  joy  to  feel  your  presence  near, 

Surrounding  me  with  love, 
Like  holy  angels  freely  sent 

With  blessings  from  above. 


24  MAY    MORNING. 


MAY    MORNING. 

Music  on  the  mountain,  music  in  the  dell, 
Where  the  rippling  streamlets  in  soft  cadence  tell 
Of  time's  rolling  current,  in  their  gentle  way, 
Sparkling  in  the  sunshine  through  the  livelong  day. 

Music  in  the  meadow,  music  on  the  lawn, 
Where  the  blue-eyed  flowerets  wake  to  hail  the  dawn, 
Peeping  through  the  curtain  of  purest  dewy  light, 
Which  fair  diamond  fingers  spread  o'er  them  at  night. 

Music  in  the  woodland,  where  the  trembling  leaves 
Whisper  words  of  gladness  to  the  passing  breeze, 
Laden  with  the  praises  of  many  a  rosy  lip, 
Where  delicious  nectar  fairy  forms  might  sip. 

Now  the  queen  of  beauty  wanders  o'er  the  plain, 
And  the  mossy  hillocks  smile  with  joy  again, 
As  with  magic  pencil  she  paints  glories  where 
Perfumes  rise  to  heaven,  like  sweet  words  of  prayer. 

In  the  sloping  valleys  children  of  the  wood 
Greet  her  welcome  footsteps,  in  their  solitude  ; 
And  with  grace  so  winning  coax  a  long  delay, 
Till  the  days  of  summer  shall  have  passed  away. 

When  the  beams  of  morning  chase  the  shades  of  night, 
And  a  thousand  anthems  hail  the  glorious  light, 
May  our  hearts  responsive  catch  the  grateful  strain, 
Swelling  high  the  chorus  to  our  Father's  name : 

Who  with  bounteous  goodness  shows  his  love  and  power, 
Making  known  his  wonders  freely  every  hour, 
Teaching  us  in  wisdom,  from  each  blooming  spring, 
That  immortal  future,  time  to  all  will  bring. 


MORNING    JOY.  25 

MORNING    JOY. 

"  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  oometh  in  the  morning." 

WHEN  the  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  spread  over  life's  sky, 
And  no  sunshine  of  gladness  beams  forth  from  on  high, 
Then  the  heart  full  of  sadness,  and  heavy  with  grief, 
Opes  the  fountain  of  tears  in  the  hope  of  relief. 

Though  most  weary  and  faint  in  our  pilgrimage  here, 
And  the  rough  way  be  wet  with  the  oft-fallen  tear, 
Yet  the  offerings  thus  given  shall  not  be  in  vain, 
But  as  pearls  of  rejoicing  be  numbered  again. 

The  fairest  of  flowers  in  silence  may  bloom, 
And  in  secret  distribute  the  richest  perfume ; 
Even  so,  when  afflictions  our  chalice  may  fill, 
Then  the  sweetest  of  comforts  for  us  may  distil. 

Brightest  gems  often  lie  where  no  footsteps  may  go, 
Which  need  but  the  light  all  their  value  to  show ; 
And  those  spots  which  the  valley  of  tears  often  seem 
Are  the  mountains  of  peace  seen  in  rapturous  dream. 

Like  a  stranger  benighted  in  darkness  most  drear, 
Where  no  kind  word  is  heard,  and  no  bright  stars  appear, 
The  soul  in  its  weariness  pines  for  the  day 
Which  shall  banish  those  shades  which  obscured  his  lone  way. 

Though  the  night  may  be  long,  and  earth's  trials  and  woes 
Oft  encompass  our  path,  and  disturb  our  repose, 
A  blest  morn  shall  soon  dawn,  when  ineffable  joy 
Shall  insure  that  true  peace  which  no  time  can  destroy. 


2G  THE     WILLOWS. 

The  glorious  light  of  that  heavenly  day, 
Which  shall  burst  on  our  sight  with  its  unfading  ray, 
Shall  reveal  in  its  splendor  the  proofs  of  that  love 
Which  has  guided  our  feet  while  we  journeyed  above. 

Though  the  hand  be  unseen  which  shall  glide  through  the  gloom, 
And  no  voices  be  heard  as  we  march  to  the  tomb, 
Yet  we  know  that  His  presence  is  near  to  defend 
Who  has  promised  forever  His  flock  to  attend. 

When  the  night  shall  be  past,  and  immortal  we.  stand 
By  the  river  of  life  in  that  beautiful  land, 
We  shall  find  that  those  trials  which  caused  our  delay 
Were  but  angels  of  mercy  encamped  by  the  way. 

Still  confiding,  still  trusting,  and  knowing  no  fear, 
We  will  cling  to  those  hopes  we  have  ever  held  dear, 
Till  the  morning  shall  break  and  the  sun  shall  arise 
On  the  long-desired  mansions  prepared  in  the  skies. 


THE    WILLOWS. 

"  The  pendent  willows  by  the  sloping  banks." 

Poem  of  B.  P.  Shillaber,  Esq. 

BENEATH  those  leafy  willows  green, 

In  childhood's  happy  days, 
I  oft  have  found  a  welcome  shade 

From  too  oppressive  rays ; 
And  when  around  my  heated  brow 

Refreshing  breezes  played, 
Bright  scenes  have  charmed  my  early  dreams, 

In  loveliest  tints  arrayed. 


THE     WILLOWS.  27 

Their  pliant  branches  have  been  made 

Obedient  to  my  care, 
And  they  have  kindly  twined  for  me 

A  sylvan  grotto  fair ; 
Where  in  my  fairy  grove  I  ate 

The  strawberries  I  had  found 
But  just  behind  my  cool  retreat, 

Upon  the  grassy  mound. 

There  I  have  tried  my  boyish  skill 

On  whistles,  kites,  and  bows, 
Each  new  production  viewed  with  pride, 

As  every  artist  knows. 
The  winged  moments  there  flew  by, 

With  peace  upon  their  wings, 
And  left  those  pleasant  thoughts  behind, 

Which  sweet  contentment  brings. 

Both  those  who  floated  merrily 

Upon  the  summer  tide 
And  those  who  crossed  its  icy  breast 

Oft  tarried  by  their  side. 
The  waving  boughs  in  arches  hung 

So  graceful  and  so  fair, 
That  many  a  sportive  youth  beheld 

A  life-long  vision  there. 

Before  life's  troubled  cares  can  come, 

Or  tears  of  sorrow  fall, 
How  sweet  the  sparkling  cup  of  joy, 

Which  we  would  oft  recall ! 
Each  pleasant  spot  seems  then  to  glow 

With  pleasures  ever  new, 
And  cherished  memories  then  are  born, 

Unlike  the  morning  dew. 


28  ANGEL     VOICES. 

I  loved  those  happy  moments  when 

My  heart  was  light  and  free,  — 
When  skies  above  and  earth  around 

Smiled  lovingly  on  me,  — 
When  in  the  future,  distant  far, 

I  saw  no  clouds  arise, 
But  golden  sunshine  light  on  all, 

With  blessings  from  the  skies. 

Since  then  I  've  seen  the  shining  goal 

Of  which  I  early  dreamed, 
And  found  those  pleasant  scenes  to  be 

Not  quite  what  once  they  seemed ; 
But  light  and  shade  commingling  where 

The  prospect  seemed  most  fair,  — 
Where  tears  and  smiles  together  blend, 

And  joy,  and  pain,  and  care. 

Our  lives  are  not  quite  all  a  dream, 

Though  pleasures  bud  and  bloom, 
Like  fragrant  flowers,  which  often  find 

A  kind  but  early  tomb ; 
But  far  beyond  these  earthly  scenes, 

Where  fondest  hopes  decay, 
A  night  of  sadness  shall  be  changed 

To  an  eternal  day. 


ANGEL    VOICES. 

WHEN  night  with  her  sombre  shadows 
Broods  in  silence  o'er  the  earth, 

Where  are  scenes  of  bitter  sadness, 
And  of  joyless,  heartless  mirth, 
I 


ANGEL      VOICES.  29 

List  I  to  sweet  angel  voices 

Stealing  through  the  stilly  air, 
Welcome  news  most  gladly  bringing 

From  their  star-lit  dwelling  fair. 

When  the  heart  is  bowed  in  weakness 

By  the  weight  of  pain  and  grief, 
Then  I  hear  their  pure  lips  telling 

Joyous  things  for  my  relief. 
Love  ordains  the  grievous  chastening, 

Drawing  children  nearer  home, 
Where  the  soul  —  earth's  fetters  broken  — 

Would  most  gladly  haste  to  come. 

Choicest  flowers  crushed  beneath  us 

Yield  their  hidden  treasures  rare, 
Freely  their  sweet  breath  bestowing 

On  the  quiet  morning  air ; 
So  afflictions,  when  they  press  us 

Like  a  burden  down  to  earth, 
Only  bid  the  heart's  choice  incense 

Brighter  burn,  and  prove  its  worth. 

Angel  voices  are  above  us 

And  around  us,  day  by  day, 
Blessed  words  forever  telling 

While  from  earth  we  look  away. 
To  the  weeping  and  the  sorrowing 

Speak  they  of  celestial  things, 
With  the  balm  of  consolation 

Sweetly  dropping  from  their  wings. 

Stay,  kind  heavenly  strangers,  linger, 

As  my  willing  guests  abide  ; 
Pearls  of  truth  I  then  shall  gather, 

If  ye  tarry  by  my  side. 
3 


30  A    MORNING    WALK. 

Cast  your  camps  secure  about  me, 
As  once  round  Jerusalem  ; 

Choicest  honors  then  shall  crown  me, 
Like  a  brilliant  diadem. 


A    MORNING    WALK. 

WHEN  the  sun  is  brightly  beaming 

In  the  morning  sky, 
And,  awaking  from  their  dreaming, 

Wild-flowers  look  on  high, 
Violets  blue, 
All  wet  with  dew, 
Bid  our  roaming  footsteps  linger, 
As  each  points  with  jewelled  finger 

To  the  azure  clouds,  which  seem 

Fairy  lands  of  which  they  dream. 

Birdlings  with  their  bosoms  yearning 

For  the  days  of  spring, 
To  their  summer  homes  returning, 

From  the  south-land,  bring 
Melodies  sweet, 
With  love  replete, 

Leading  our  best  thoughts  to  heaven, 
As  sweet  incense  gladly  given 

To  that  God  who  guards  us  all, 

Watching  e'en  the  sparrow's  fall. 

Flowerets  in  the  woodland  breathing 

Silent  words  of  prayer, 

To  the  passing  breeze  bequeathing 

Fragrance  pure  and  rare, 

Bring  to  us  joy 

Without  alloy, 


A     MORNING     WALK.  31 

As  with  pleasure  we  bend  o'er  them, 
Humbly  worshipping  before  them, 

Beading  on  each  petal  fair 

Precious  truths  abiding  there. 

Music  from  pure  fountains  gushing, 

Sparkling  clear  and  free, 
O'er  the  pebbly  pavements  rushing, 

Toward  the  deep  blue  sea, 
Falls  on  my  ear, 
Listening  to  hear, 
As  in  days  of  happy  childhood, 
When  I  roamed  far  in  the  wild- wood, 

Gathering  lilies  from  the  brooks, 

Floating  in  fair  shady  nooks. 

Thus  in  Memory's  halls  I  wander 

Where  I  used  to  tread, 
And  in  silence  often  ponder 

On  scenes  long,  long  fled, 
Wishing  to  view 
Sunshine  and  dew, 
On  some  bright  and  lovely  morning, 
When  sweet  flowers,  the  meads  adorning, 

Breathe  sweet  odors  on  the  air, 

Giving  blessing  everywhere. 

Near  "  still  waters  "  soon  forever 

Joyous  feet  shall  stand, 
Where  earth's  fairest  scenes  shall  never 

Fade,  in  that  blest  land ; 
Where'er  for  thee 
Glory  shall  be, 

On  the  blooming  plains  of  Eden, 
'Neath  the  brilliant  skies  of  heaven, 

Untold  bliss  awaits  each  soul, 

Sighing  for  that  shining  goal. 


32  TO     A    FRIEND. 

TO    A    FRIEND, 

ON  DEPARTING  FOR  THE  "SUNNY  SOUTH.' 

WHEN  tossed  upon  the  billows, 

Beneath  an  autumn  sky, 
Which  often  rise  tempestuous, 

Like  mountains  towering  high, 
May  His  strong  arm  protect  thee, 

As  on  thy  native  strand, 
Who  holds  the  waters  safely 

Within  his  mighty  hand. 

And  should  the  storm-king  venture 

To  battle  with  thy  bark, 
And  rudely  dash  upon  thee 

The  restless  waters  dark, 
Then  through  the  gloom  look  upward, 

And  banish  every  fear, 
For  angels  will  attend  thee, 

To  give  thee  needed  cheer. 

For  near  God's  children  ever 

Such  messengers  abide, 
To  shield  them  with  their  presence, 

At  noon  or  eventide  ; 
And  though  life's  course  be  changeful, 

E'en  like  an  April  sky, 
In  pleasure  or  in  sorrow 

Our  guardian  friend  is  nigh. 

And  when  shall  breathe  upon  you 
The  fragrant  southern  wind, 

Think  of  the  stricken  lone  one, 
In  suffering  left  behind,  — 


OCTOBER.  33 

And  send  a  perfumed  message 

To  northern  climes  away, 
Upon  the  wings  of  morning, 

To  cheer  each  weary  day. 

When  the  cold  winds  of  winter 

Shall  pierce  my  casement  through, 
How  often  'mid  the  stillness 

Shall  I  then  think  of  you, 
And  pine  for  lovely  flowers 

Beneath  far  sunnier  skies, 
Where  roses  waste  their  sweetness, 

And  beauty  never  dies ! 

But  I  shall  long  remember 

Your  deeds  of  kindness  done ; 
Recalling  happy  hours 

Forever  past  and  gone ; 
And  when,  with  joy,  I  enter 

Within  the  pearly  gate, 
May  blessings  still  attend  you 

While  for  the  crown  you  wait ! 


OCTOBER. 

AUTUMN,  with  her  blushing  face, 
Greets  us  now  with  modest  grace, 
Like  a  maid  whose  heart  is  stirred, 
When  the  voice  of  love  is  heard. 
Summer's  smiles  had  power  to  win, 
Sunny  as  it  ere  had  been, 
And  bright  flowers  accorded  well 
Silently  kind  thoughts  to  tell. 


34  OCTOBER. 

Richly  dressed  in  gay  attire, 
Which  must  needs  our  praise  inspire, 
Varied  with  both  light  and  shade, 
Like  a  robe  of  rainbows  made, 
Now  she  comes  a  fairy  queen, 
O'er  the  hills  and  meadows  green, 
While  on  each  succeeding  day 
Steps  of  beauty  mark  her  way. 

Tasselled  corn  whose  golden  ears 
Glow  as  her  bright  car  appears, 
Glad  to  feel  her  magic  wand, 
As  in  marshalled  ranks  they  stand ; 
While  the  sheaves  of  ripening  grain, 
Scattered  o'er  the  bounteous  plain, 
Bow  their  heads  with  reverent  air, 
Proud  her  welcome  smiles  to  share. 

Trellised  vines  along  the  wall 
Quickly  heed  her  gentle  call, 
And  reveal  their  purple  store, 
Just  enough  to  tempt  the  more  ; 
While  the  orchard's  generous  pride 
Greets  her  with  its  juicy  tide, 
Peeping  from  a  russet  screen, 
Joying  thus  to  grace  the  scene. 

Could  we,  like  the  mountain  trees, 
Know  what  words  she  spoke  to  these, 
As  she  kissed  a  trembling  leaf 
On  its  emerald  bed  beneath, 
We  might  tell,  though  high  and  great, 
All  must  find  a  lowly  state, 
When  earth's  pleasures  fade  away, 
At  the  close  of  life's  short  day. 


A    MINISTERING     SPIRIT.  35 

Could  we  know  her  parting  word, 
Which  the  rustling  leaflet  stirred, 
We  might  tell,  though  all  must  die, 
When  death's  chilling  winds  come  nigh, 
That  again  in  lovelier  bloom, 
Rising  from  the  silent  tomb, 
We  shall  find  a  glorious  home, 
Where  dread  change  can  never  come. 


A    MINISTERING    SPIRIT. 

AN  angel  from  the  realms  of  light 
'Once  crossed  my  path  in  sorrow's  night, 
Who  lingered  till  the  break  of  day, 
Content  to  wipe  my  tears  away, 
And  bring  blest  sunshine  to  my  heart, 
Causing  the  clouds  of  grief  to  part. 

In  earthly  garb  the  "  stranger  "  came, 
Unheard  her  voice,  unknown  her  name  ; 
But  there  was  something  in  her  eye 
Which  spoke  her  mission  from  on  high, 
To  comfort  an  afflicted  soul, 
O'er  whom  deep  billows  often  roll. 

I  might  have  thought  her  home  below, 
For  thus  her  form  would  seem  to  show ; 
But  as  she  turned  her  to  depart, 
Bequeathing  blessings  on  my  heart, 
E'en  while  I  mused  on  heavenly  things, 
I  thought  I  saw  her  folded  wings. 


36  ON    A    DEW-DROP. 

Sweet  memories  long  linger  where 

Earth's  sunny  spots  seem  bright  and  fair, 

And  gratitude  our  bosoms  fill, 

Though  words  be  few,  and  thoughts  be  still ; 

But  give  me  sight  to  plainly  see, 

When  angel  hands  shall  wait  on  me. 


ON    A    DEW-DROP. 

DEW-DROP  trembling  in  the  sun, 

Like  a  tiny  world  of  light, 
Sparkling  on  thy  emerald  bed, 

Like  a  diamond  pure  and  bright, 
Let  me  in  thy  bosom  trace 

Proofs  of  wisdom,  love,  and  power, 
As  so  skilfully  displayed 

In  the  richly  tinted  flower. 

Let  me  view  those  gorgeous  shades, 

Playing  round  thy  jewelled  form, 
Like  fair  rainbows  azure  set, 

When  has  passed  the  summer  storm. 
Into  thy  clear  depths  I  gaze, 

Seeking  out  some  fairy  fair, 
Who  with  magic  wand  might  paint 

Such  celestial  colors  there. 

Ocean  deep  for  tiny  sailors, 

Floating  o'er  its  crystal  tide, 
Or  upon  its  billows  tossing, 

As  to  fragrant  ports  they  ride. 
Dwell  they  there  in  silent  grandeur, 

As  it  were  the  only  home, 
Where  true  pleasure  e'er  was  sought  for, 

Or  glad  sunshine  e'er  could  come. 


THE     BREATH     OF    JUNE.  37 

Myriad  stars  we  see  above  us, 

Sparkling  with  their  mellow  light, 
Like  gems  wrought  in  the  dark  curtain 

Dropped  by  angel  hands  at  night. 
Most  sublime  the  prospect  o'er  us 

When  these  distant  worlds  we  view, 
But  the  wondrous  hand  that  made  them 

Also  formed  a  drop  of  dew. 


THE    BREATH    OF    JUNE. 

THROUGH  my  open  casement  stealing, 

Conies  the  breath  of  flowering  June, 
Welcome  charms  to  me  revealing, 

Redolent  with  rich  perfume. 
Summer  winds,  most  softly  sighing 

Through  the  bursting  blossoms  near, 
Bear  the  whispers  of  the  dying 

To  my  lonely,  listening  ear. 

Verdant  meads  in  peace  reposing 

By  a  gently  flowing  stream, 
When  the  weary  day  is  closing, 

Charm  one  like  a  fairy  dream, 
To  the  evening  breeze  bequeathing 

Gifts  which  I  would  not  resign,  — 
Grateful  odors  kindly  breathing, 

A.S  the  twilight  hours  decline. 

Where  bright  flowers  are  gayly  growing, 
Pleasing  every  sparkling  eye, 

There  would  I,  my  praise  bestowing, 
Joy  with  them  to  look  on  high. 


38  MOONLIGHT    EVENINGS. 

Murmuring  woodlands,  ever  ringing 
With  the  song  of  many  a  bird, 

To  my  solitude  are  bringing 

Sounds  which  oft  my  heart  have  stirred. 

When  the  lonely  hours  are  dreary, 

And  no  voice  disturbs  the  gloom, 
When  distressed,  and  worn,  and  weary, 

Then  sweet  flowers  can  cheer  my  room. 
In  the  stilly  night  may  linger 

By  our  side  some  angel  form, 
Who  may  write  with  magic  finger 

Words  which  a  sad  heart  may  warm. 

O  for  those  once  happy  hours 

When  my  heart  and  steps  were  light,  — 
When  I  roamed  among  the  flowers, 

Finding  there  a  pure  delight ! 
But  these  days  of  pain  and  sorrow 

Soon  will  pass  with  all  their  gloom ; 
Soon  a  blissful,  bright  to-morrow 

Shall  arise  beyond  the  tomb. 


MOONLIGHT    EVENINGS, 

I  LOVE  the  moonlight  evenings, 

So  beautiful  and  fair, 
WTien  scented  leaves  and  blossoms 

Perfume  the  quiet  air ; 
I  love  the  welcome  stillness 

These  tranquil  hours  bring 
To  care-worn,  weary  pilgrims, 

When  time  is  on  the  wing. 


MOONLIGHT     EVENINGS.  39 

I  love  the  pleasant  moonlight, 

Its  silver  rays  entwined 
With  golden  threads  of  sunshine, 

Which  daylight  has  resigned ; 
I  love  the  mellow  radiance 

It  scatters  all  around,  — 
Its  shaded  mantle  hanging 

Where  quiet  nooks  are  found. 

I  love  to  see  the  glory 

Shine  through  the  veil  above, 
Spread  o'er  us  like  the  pinions 

Of  a  protecting  dove,  — 
Where,  in  my  steady  gazing, 

I  think  I  almost  see 
Some  seraph  in  his  beauty 

With  blessing  smile  on  me. 

How  oft  in  boyhood's  fancies, 

When  zephyrs  fanned  the  air, 
Upon  a  fleecy  cloudlet 

I  've  seen  bright  angels,  fair, 
And  wondering  have  listened 

To  hear  some  heavenly  strain, 
If  it  perchance  should  echo 

O'er  hill  and  vale  again ! 

I  love  these  pleasant  moments, 

So  freely  to  us  given, 
When  wandering  thoughts  collected 

May  rest  intent  on  heaven ; 
When  in  a  close  communion 

With  blooming  nature  round, 
Our  hearts'  most  grateful  praises 

Like  incense  may  be  found. 


40  THE    SPRINGING    GRASS. 

Sweet  memories  always  linger 

Around  such  happy  hours, 
As  welcome  to  our  feelings 

As  dew-drops  to  the  flowers. 
How  often,  on  life's  journey, 

Bright  waymarks  we  behold 
Where  pleasant  moonlight  evenings 

Can  sweetest  thoughts  unfold ! 


THE    SPRINGING    GRASS. 

SLOWLY,  surely,  still  increasing, 

Springs  the  fresh  and  tender  grass, 
To  fulfil  its  generous  mission 

While  the  rosy  months  may  pass ; 
Painting  all  the  lawns  and  meadows 

With  a  lovely  emerald  hue,  — 
Skirting  all  the  murmuring  woodlands, 

Which  would  share  its  beauty  too. 

Violets  with  purple  eyelids 

Nestle  in  the  mossy  bed, 
Peeping  out  with  smiles  so  winning 

At  the  azure  clouds  o'erhead. 
Wild-flowers  bloom  amid  the  valleys, 

Where  the  echoing  streamlets  glide, 
Weaving  shades  within  earth's  carpet 

Which  no  artist's  hands  have  dyed. 

Beauty  reigns  all  o'er  the  landscape, 
With  her  new-born  charms  replete, 

While  we  gaze  with  holy  feelings, 
As  she  walks  with  virgin  feet 


O,     SPEAK     TO     ME     KINDLY!  41 

Through  the  dells  and  up  the  hill-sides, 

By  the  river's  sparkling  tide, 
Dropping  flowers  to  mark  her  footsteps, 

With  the  purest  thoughts  allied. 

As  the  tender  grass  is  springing, 

Silently  thus  blessing  all, 
Causing  those  new  charms  and  pleasures 

Which  fond  memories  must  recall, 
May  that  Hand  that  paints  the  landscape, 

Humbling  all  man's  boasted  art, 
Write  e'en  with  a  golden  sunbeam 

Living  truths  upon  our  heart. 

Casting  off  the  chains  that  bound  them, 

All  the  tiny  buds  of  spring 
Smile  to  greet  the  blessed  sunshine, 

Which  to  them  new  life  will  bring ; 
Even  so,  still  patient  waiting, 

Gazing  upward  to  the  sky, 
May  we  hail  that  welcome  spring-time 

Which  shall  dawn  when  grief  shall  die  ! 


O,    SPEAK    TO    ME    KINDLY! 

O,  SPEAK  to  me  kindly  ! 
When  through  each  long  and  weary  day, 

Imprisoned  in  the  gloom, 
I  see  no  gifts  of  blooming  May, 

And  breathe  no  sweets  of  June, 

Then  a  kind  spoken  word  can  soon  bring  one  glad  cheer, 
Like  the  sweetest  of  incense  on  zephyrs  brought  near. 
Speak  to  me  kindly ! 


42  O,     SPEAK    TO     ME     KINDLY! 

O,  speak  to  me  gently ! 
For  deep  within  the  heart  may  lie 

The  bitter  springs  of  grief, 
Which  need  the  light  of  heaven's  fair  sky 

To  bring  a  sweet  relief, 

And  a  kind,  gentle  word  will  oft  strengthen  my  heart, 
Bidding  sorrow  and  sadness  most  quickly  depart. 
Speak  to  me  gently  ! 

Speak  cheerfully  to  me  ! 
When  on  my  burdened  spirits  fall 

Some  dark  and  lowering  clouds, 
Which  with  portentous  ills  appall 

In  unrelentless  crowds, 

Then  a  glad,  joyous  tone  with  sweet  music  can  cheer, 
Like  melodious  strains  from  heaven's  portals  brought  near. 
Speak  cheerfully  to  me  ! 

Speak  lovingly  to  me  ! 
Such  holy  words  fall  on  my  ear, 
From  lips  sincere  and  true, 
As  welcome  as  bright  flowers  appear, 

To  greet  the  crystal  dew  ; 
For  the  richest  of  gifts  are  the  offerings  of  love, 
E'er  distilling  unseen  from  their  fountain  above. 
Speak  lovingly  to  me  ! 

Speak  hopefully  to  me  ! 
O,  tell  of  rest  above  the  gloom, 

Within  the  heavenly  home,  — 
Of  wondrous  bliss  beyond  the  tomb, 
Where  sorrow  ne'er  can  come  ! 
O,  tell  me  of  beauty,  where  glories  unfold 
Immortal,  unchanging  through  ages  untold. 
Speak  hopefully  to  me  ! 


FADED     LEAVES.  43 


FADED    LEAVES. 

THE  faded  leaves  in  silence  fall, 

Touched  by  autumnal  frost,  — 
Their  magic  tints  are  scarcely  seen 

Ere  they  are  wholly  lost ; 
Even  so  our  cherished  prospects  fail, 

When  fairest  oft  they  seem,  — 
Like  golden  gifts  in  visions  blest, 

They  prove  an  empty  dream. 

Not  all  a  dream,  —  for  life  has  joys 

And  hopes  forever  dear, 
A  well-spring  whence  delicious  streams 

Gush  forth  most  pure  and  clear ; 
For  in  the  heart  sweet  peace  is  known, 

And  love  attending  waits 
To  catch  the  faintest  whisper  there, 

Then  opens  wide  her  gates. 

The  trembling  leaves  in  quiet  grew, 

Nor  foe  nor  danger  feared, 
But  drank  the  sunshine  and  the  dew, 

And  smiled  when  storms  appeared  ; 
Thus  may  I  on  my  homeward  path 

Behold  heaven's  glories  nigh, 
Nor  faint  when  adverse  winds  approach, 

When  clouds  obscure  life's  sky. 

As  sentinels  with  glistening  shields, 

The  dewy  leaves  at  dawn 
Announced  to  blooming  nature  round 

The  brilliant  car  of  morn ; 


44  FADED     LEAVES. 

Forsaken  now,  their  watch-towers  stand 

To  mark  the  place  below, 
Where  troops  in  scarlet  vestures  rest, 

Encamped  in  tents  of  snow. 

Life's  spring-time  smiles  with  joy  and  peace, 

And  knows  few  bitter  tears,  — 
Its  sunny  sky,  all  bright  with  hope, 

Provokes  no  gloomy  fears ; 
But  when  in  grief's  desponding  night 

The  winds  of  sorrow  moan, 
Like  withered  leaves,  earth's  pleasures  seem 

To  lie  entombed  alone. 

Above  the  dead  the  sighing  winds 

Their  mournful  requiem  sing, 
Whose  plaintive  strains  to  every  heart 

The  saddest  memories  bring. 
The  dearly  loved  —  the  good  —  the  true 

Like  flowers  have  passed  away, 
But  left  the  fragrance  of  their  lives, 

To  cheer  us  while  we  stay. 

Though  all  must  fade,  and  feel  the  power 

Of  death's  relentless  hand, 
The  veil  which  hides  all  earthly  scenes 

Eeveals  the  better  land. 
There  joys  transcendent  fill  the  breast, 

And  flowers  lovelier  bloom, 
There  no  sad  change  can  e'er  invade 

The  life  beyond  the  tomb. 


THE     BRIEF     ANSWER.  45 


THE    BEIEF    ANSWER. 

I  MUSED  in  silence,  and  I  thought 

Of  blessed  days  to  come, 
When  I  in  triumph  should  be  brought 

To  my  eternal  home  ; 
Where  angels  in  attendance  wait, 

Companions  for  the  blest, 
Who  enter,  through  the  pearly  gates, 

The  promised  land  of  rest. 

I  thought  of  mansions  long  prepared 

With  walls  of  jewelled  light, 
To  which  on  earth  was  naught  compared, 

So  glorious  was  the  sight !  — 
Of  groves,  and  streams,  and  fragrant  bowers, 

With  every  charm  replete, 
Where  Eden's  choicest,  fairest  flowers, 

Were  clustering  round  my  feet. 

I  thought  of  rest,  sweet  welcome  rest 

From  grief,  and  tears,  and  pain  ; 
Where,  with  celestial  beauty  blest, 

To  live  were  joy  again. 
I  saw  an  angel  joyful  raise 

His  censer  high  in  air, 
Announcing,  with  triumphant  praise, 

That  death  ne'er  entered  there. 

My  heart  was  stirred  with  great  deh'ght, 

Surprising  was  the  scene  I 
Could  this  e'er  greet  my  wondering  sight, 

Or  must  it  prove  a  dream  ? 
4 


46  ONALILY. 

Can  such  a  home  be  mine,  I  cried, 
Mine  such  a  realm  of  bliss  ? 

I  paused,  —  "  a  still,  small  voice"  replied, 
And  sweetly  answered,  "  Yes." 


ON    A    LILY. 

ONCE  a  fragrant,  snowy  lily 

Floated  down  a  crystal  stream, 
Lingering  not  'mid  scented  flowers, 

Where  green  meads  with  beauty  teem ; 
Though  it  sailed  through  nook  so  winsome 

And  where  dancing  sunbeams  play, 
Yet,  refusing  e'er  to  linger, 

Onward  still  it  sped  its  way. 

Though  it  passed  retreats  most  shady, 

Where  the  festooned  arches  hung, 
To  protect  from  burning  sunshine 

Dew-drops  hid  its  leaves  among,  — 
Swiftly  passing  dimpled  eddies, 

Dancing  o'er  the  rocks  below, 
Still  intent  upon  its  journey, 

Paused  it  not  their  bliss  to  know. 

Onward,  onward,  still  pursuing, 

Gathering  strength  as  on  it  sped, 
Tarried  not  the  snow-white  sailer 

Till  it  found  its  destined  bed 
On  the  breast  of  heaving  ocean, 

Leaping  o'er  the  billowy  tide, 
Watching  e'en  with  calm  composure, 

Crested  billows  by  its  side. 


ONALILY.  47 

Even  so,  pure  moral  courage, 

Passing  down  the  stream  of  life, 
Deaf  to  all  the  world's  allurements, 

Pauses  not  to  join  the  strife. 
Shunning  e'en  the  paths  of  pleasure, 

Though  so  harmless  they  appear, 
Beauteous  as  the  modest  daisy, 

Which  adorns  the  new-born  year. 

Sailing  swiftly  down  the  current 

With  the  tempter's  power  beset, 
Lingers  not  the  moral  sailor, 

Though  life's  cup  may  sparkle  yet. 
Though  the  boisterous  winds  of  passion 

Drive  him  where  bright  eddies  foam, 
Still  protected  by  his  armor, 

To  his  heart  no  evils  come. 

Or  ward  still  with  strength  emboldened, 

Where  the  path  of  duty  leads, 
Soon  he  finds  the  golden  haven, 

Where  his  honored  fame  he  reads. 
Strong  to  meet  all  forms  of  error, 

Which  like  mists  obscure  the  way, 
Safe  he  rises  o'er  each  billow, 

Chasing  grievous  ills  away. 

Conqueror  over  all  temptation, 

Never  strong  in  faith  as  now, 
Virtue  her  true  passport  grants  him 

By  her  signet  on  his  brow. 
To  life's  warfare  then  he  marches, 

Like  a  veteran  tried  and  brave, 
Never  in  the  van  he  falters 

Till  he  finds  a  glorious  grave. 


48  WE    ARE     GOING    HOME. 


WE    ARE    GOING    HOME. 

WE  are  going  home  to  that  blessed  shore 
Where  the  weary  shall  rest  when  their  toils  are  o'er, 
Where  the  sorrows  of  earth  and  its  cares  come  not, 
And  its  tears  and  its  trials  are  ever  forgot ; 
Where  the  little  flock  will  delight  to  roam 
By  the  crystal  streams  of  their  beautiful  home, 
Where  the  jewelled  walls  and  the  streets  of  gold 
Shall  e'er  be  the  abode  of  the  heavenly  fold. 
O  that  beautiful  home  ! 

We  are  going  home,  and  we  gladly  press  on 
To  the  end  of  the  race,  when  the  crown  will  be  won ; 
Where  the  welcome  is  heard  at  the  bright  pearly  gates, 
Where  for  pilgrims  eternal  felicity  waits ; 
Where  the  sunshine  of  glory  shall  beam  o'er  the  earth, 
When  renewed  it  awakes  to  an  Edenic  birth  ; 
When  the  morning  stars  shall  rehearse  their  strain, 
And  the  sons  of  God  shout  in  one  joyful  acclaim. 
O  that  beautiful  home  ! 

We  are  going  home,  we  have  long  delayed 
In  the  thorny  paths  where  our  feet  have  strayed, 
And  we  long  to  view  those  flowery  plains, 
Where  unfading  beauty  forever  reigns ; 
Where  the  richest  perfume  will  charm  the  air, 
For  the  tree  of  life  will  e'er  blossom  there ; 
And  sweet  music  float  on  each  gentle  breeze 
As  its  echoes  play  through  the  whispering  trees. 
O  that  beautiful  home  ! 

We  are  going  home,  where  the  glorious  light 
Of  the  perfect  day  shall  dispel  the  night, 
Where  the  dearly  loved  who  have  gone  to  rest 
We  shall  once  more  greet  near  the  Saviour's  breast ; 


HAPPY    MOMENTS.  49 

And  in  concert  join  with  the  heavenly  choirs 
In  loud  anthems  attuned  to  pure  golden  lyres, 
Where  the  ransomed  throng  shall  with  triumph  reign, 
And  the  angel  of  peace  dwell  on  earth  again. 
O  that  beautiful  hoftie  ! 

We  are  going  home,  and  we  joy  to  know 
That  earth's  weary  march  will  soon  end  below,  — 
For  the  distant  heights  of  the  beautiful  land 
We  most  gladly  behold,  as  on  Pisgah  we  stand ; 
And  we  long  to  roam  o'er  those  pastures  green 
Where  the  river  of  life  flows  its  vales  between ; 
Where  the  Lord  shall  lead  like  a  shepherd  his  fold, 
Where  pleasures  fail  not,  and  time  never  grows  old. 
O  that  beautiful  home  ! 


HAPPY    MOMENTS. 

HAPPY  moments,  gifts  of  love, 
Angel  visits  from  above ; 
Sumptuous  feasts  in  visions  bright, 
Richest  as  they  take  their  flight ; 
Fleeting  oft  as  perfumes  sweet, 
With  their  secret  charms  replete  ; 
Yet  they  leave  fond  memories  near, 
To  dispel  the  falling  tear. 

Happy  moments,  like  those  notes, 
Whose  spell  on  trembling  ether  floats, 
Borne,  as  from  celestial  spheres, 
To  enrapture  mortal  ears ;  — 
Music  from  an  angel's  lyre, 
Purest  joys  must  needs  inspire ; 
Then  the  soul  would  fain  be  free 
To  swell  the  lofty  harmony. 


50  HAPPY    MOMENTS. 

Happy  moments,  drops  of  dew 
Gorgeous  as  each  rainbow  hue, 
Fairest  pearls  of  liquid  light, 
Dropped  by  angel  hands  at  night ; 
As  unseen  they  e"er  distil, 
And  with  joy  the  sad  heart  fill, 
Silently  thus  charming  all 
When  the  shades  of  sorrow  fall. 

Happy  moments,  like  the  gems 
Glittering  in  diadems,  ,' 

Yet  more  pleasing  far  than  they, 
Sparkling  through  life's  changing  day  ; 
When  the  soul  exulting  sings 
Of  celestial,  holy  things, 
Earthly  treasures,  though  most  rare, 
Cannot  with  its  joys  compare. 

Happy  moments,  beams  of  light 
Radiant  in  grief's  cheerless  night, 
Often  seen  'midst  smiles  and  tears, 
'Mid  fond  hopes  and  lingering  fears  ; 
Like  blest  sunshine  they  convey 
Deepening  shadows  fast  away, 
And  reveal  new  founts  of  peace, 
Joyous  with  a  rich  increase. 

Happy  moments,  stars  of  night, 
Brilliants  of  celestial  light, 
Golden  beams,  from  glory  given, 
Winning  us  from  earth  to  heaven ; 
'Mid  earth's  gloom  sweet  tidings  come 
From  that  better,  brighter  home, 
Bidding  us  still  journey  on, 
Till  the  conquering  crown  is  won. 


THE   SPIRIT'S   WHISPER.  51 


THE    SPIRIT'S    WHISPER. 

GRACIOUS  Spirit,  I  would  listen 

To  thy  voice  so  full  of  love, 
Whispering  in  the  soul's  deep  stillness, 

Holy  tidings  from  above ; 
I  would  have  my  heart  made  ready, 

For  thy  peaceful,  quiet  rest, 
As  a  dovelet  seeks  unwearied 

To  provide  herself  a  nest. 

I  would  cherish  thy  blest  visit, 

When  reproof  must  needs  be  given, 
As  kind  tokens  of  God's  favor, 

Borne  on  angel  wings  from  heaven ; 
I  would  covet  such  a  guidance. 

Lest  my  erring  footsteps  stray, 
And  would  feel  thy  beams  around  me, 

Like  a  sun  to  light  my  way. 

Whisper  to  me,  tell  of  glories 

Which  adorn  the  heavenly  home, 
Where,  through  grace  and  faith  made  perfect, 

Joyous  I  at  length  would  come ; 
Let  me  hear  the  blessed  anthems 

Which  pure  seraphs  love  to  sing, 
To  which  golden  harps  in  concert 

Sweetest  notes  forever  bring. 

Gentle  Spirit,  whisper  to  me, 

When  in  sadness  and  in  tears, 
Let  the  "  still  small  voice  "  melodious 

Quick  dispel  my  rising  fears  ; 


52  NATURE'S   PAGES. 

Onward  then,  still  homeward  tending, 

Should  I  grasp  the  golden  chain, 
By  which  blessings  pure  and  holy 
'  Visit  earth  like  welcome  rain. 


NATURE'S    PAGES. 

LET  me  read  from  Nature's  pages,  — 

Truths  sublime  lie  written  there ; 
Let  me  find  among  its  records 

Thoughts  like  jewels  passing  fair; 
Let  me  trace  the  hand  of  wisdom 

In  all  things  we  here  behold  : 
Grove  and  mountain,  stream  and  fountain, 

Each  have  wonders  to  unfold. 

Forests  with  their  waving  shadows, 

Skirted  round  with  grove  and  lawn, 
Tell  of  silence  where,  unheeded, 

Beauty  without  art  is  born. 
Solitude  oft  nurtures  fancies, 

But  in  secret,  too,  are  found 
Angel  footsteps  softly  falling, 

So  no  ear  can  catch  the  sound. 

Voices  'mid  the  balmy  stillness 

Speak  most  sweetly  to  the  heart, 
In  pure  accents  which  if  heeded 

Bid  all  gloomy  thoughts  depart. 
Teaching  that  in  patient  waiting, 

Strength  is  gainecl,  though  slow  our  speed 
Towering  oaks  the  storm  can  battle, 

Zephyrs  may  uproot  the  weed. 


NATURE'S   PAGES.  53 

Mountains,  kingly  in  their  grandeur, 

Steadfast  point  toward  loftier  skies ; 
So  our  souls,  by  faith  made  stronger, 

Would  unfettered  homeward  rise. 
Upward  rising,  —  onward  tending 

With  our  spirits  constant,  pure, 
May  our  hopes  be  firmly  rooted 

On  foundations  strong  and  sure. 

Crystal  streamlets  softly  flowing 

Onward  towards  their  goal  afar, 
Bearing  on  their  azure  bosoms 

Fleecy  cloud  and  glistening  star, 
Speak  of  Time's  swift-gliding  current, 

With  our  blessings  mirrored  there ; 
Koyal  proofs  most  kindly  given 

Of  God's  wondrous  love  and  care. 

Like  to  fountains  cool  and  sparkling, 

Bubbling  up  from  depths  below, 
Showing  by  their  silvery  music 

All  the  good  they  would  bestow : 
May  our  pleasures,  gushing  upward 

From  deep  wells  of  truth  and  love, 
Spread  abroad  an  influence  showing 

Their  true  source  is  from  above. 

Let  me  list  to  Nature's  music, 

Sounding  o'er  her  wide  domain  ; 
In  the  purling,  rippling  brooklet,  — 

In  the  soft-descending  rain  ; 
Let  me  hear  the  rolling  thunder, 

When  the  vivid  lightnings  play,  — 
Feel  the  glorious  Power  that  guides  them, 

Trusting  it  to  guide  my  way. 


54  AN  ANGEL'S   VISIT. 

Earth  is  filled  with  wondrous  beauty, 

If  but  thankful  we  behold 
Treasures  easier  found  and  cared  for 

Than  the  world's  great  idol,  —  gold. 
Costly  mines  oft  lie  imbedded 

Near  our  footsteps  day  by  day, 
From  which  pearls  of  truth  are  gathered 

If  but  patience  lead  the  way. 


AN    ANGEL'S    VISIT. 

A  STRANGER  stood  before  my  cot, 

His  garb  was  neat,  though  poor, 
He  said  he  wished  a  resting-spot, 

I  opened  wide  my  door. 
He  entered,  and  my  board  I  spread, 

Nor  did  my  best  deny  ; 
A  "  cup  of  water  cool,"  he  said 

Would  all  his  wants  supply. 

He  took  it  with  a  heavenly  smile, 

Just  sipping  from  the  brim  ; 
Nor  did  I  even  dream  the  while 

The  good  to  come  from  him ; 
But  quickly  to  my  bosom  flowed 

The  most  transcendent  bliss, 
No  fairy's  power  e'er  bestowed 

Such  joy  and  peace  as  this. 

He  left  me,  and  his  modest  dress 
Grew  brilliant  as  the  light, 

As  in  his  passing  loveliness 
He  vanished  from  my  sight. 


THE     ROSE     BY     THE     WAYSIDE.  55 

Then  well  I  knew  an  angel  fair 

Had  been  my  willing  guest, 
And  memory's  signet  sparkles  there, 

When  by  the  stranger  blest. 


THE    ROSE    BY    THE    WAYSIDE 

A  LITTLE  rose  bloomed  in  the  way, 
In  which  I  roamed  one  sunny  day  ; 

It  looked  so  fair, 
I  wondered  why  alone  it  grew, 
And  why  so  long  concealed  from  view, 

While  nestling  there. 

Its  crimson  petals  wide  outspread 
A  grateful  perfume  freely  shed ; 

Dripping  with  dew, 
It  seemed  in  whispered  tones  to  say, 
"  Shunning  the  glances  of  the  gay, 

/ bloomed  for  you" 

"  The  sunshine  kissed  my  lips  at  morn, 
Soon  as  I  peeped  to  hail  the  dawn, 

With  blushes  red ; 
I  was  content,  though  day  by  day 
No  roaming  footsteps  passed  this  way, 

By  beauty  led." 

I  claimed  the  treasure,  pure  and  fair, 
As  all  mine  own ;  with  special  care 

I  kept  it  long  ; 

It  said  sweet  sayings  o'er  and  o'er, 
But  one  bright  morn  it  spoke  no  more,  — 

Its  leaves  were  gone. 


56  BUBBLING    ECHOES. 

Thus  in  the  varied  paths  of  life, 
Amid  its  cares,  its  toils,  its  strife, 

We  often  roam ; 

Then  some  sweet  memories  chain  us  here, 
Some  holy  thoughts  dispel  all  fear, 

And  guide  us  home. 

And  when  earth's  charms,  like  withered  flowers, 
Amid  afflictions  painful  hours, 

No  longer  cheer, 
A  holy  peace,  a  quiet  joy, 
Which  unbelief  can  ne'er  destroy, 

Brings  heaven  near. 


BUBBLING    ECHOES. 

ECHOES  from  the  crystal  fountain, 

Springing  up  from  depths  below, 
Pure  as  on  the  cloud-capt  mountain 

Falls  the  white  and  spotless  snow  ; 
Let  me  hear  thy  liquid  music, 

Sounding  forth  from  granite  keys, 
Touched  by  fairies'  jewelled  fingers,  — 

Sounds  sublime  but  equal  these. 

Streamlets  from  the  bubbling  fountain, 

Gliding  on  thy  steady  way, 
Let  me  on  thy  dimpled  surface 

See  the  loitering  eddies  play ; 
Let  me  hear  the  rush  of  waters, 

Foaming  o'er  thy  rocky  bed, 
Like  a  white-plumed  warrior  marching 

Of  his  loyal  troops  ahead. 


BUBBLING    ECHOES.  57 

Ocean,  to  the  flowing  streamlets, 

And  the  living  fountains  due, 
Let  me  hear  triumphant  numbers 

Grandly  sounding  forth  from  you 
Let  me  in  thy  crested  billows 

See  the  jewels  sparkle  free, 
While  a  thousand  rainbows  mingle 

With  the  deep,  unfathomed  sea. 

Echoes  from  the  crystal  fountain 

Speak  in  silver  tones  to  me, 
Of  pure  pleasures  gushing  upward 

From  those  depths  no  eye  can  see ; 
Sparkling  like  thy  rippling  waters, 

Deeds  of  virtue  I  behold, 
Dearer  to  the  soul's  affections 

Than  rare  gifts  of  sordid  gold. 

'  Streamlet  joyous  rushing  onward, 

With  thy  blue  lips  kissing  showers, 
Which  most  bounteous  Heaven  bestows, 

On  thy  banks  bestrewed  with  flowers. 
Let  me,  like  thy  mirrored  surface, 

Fully  drink  of  truth  and  love, 
Which,  reflected  all  around  me, 

Would  in  praise  return  above. 

Ocean  deep,  deep  sounding  ocean  ! 

In  thy  depths  the  type  I  see 
Of  that  matchless  grace  which  Heaven 

Has  most  freely  shown  to  me. 
May  I,  like  its  outspread  waters, 

Feel  the  sunshine  of  God's  love, 
Till,  on  billowy  surges  weary, 

Rest  I  seek  like  Noah's  dove. 


58  MARY. 

Fountain,  streamlet,  ocean  boundless, 

Blend  in  one  harmonious  strain, 
Echoing  back  in  liquid  breathings 

Their  pure  native  tones  again  ; 
Let  me  catch  the  inspiration, 

Full  and  pure  and  free  as  these, 
Let  me  hear  the  secret  whispers 

Of  fair  brooks  and  murmuring  trees. 


MAEY. 

WHAT  name  falls  on  affection's  ear, 
In  silvery  notes  more  soft  and  clear, 

Than  Mary  ? 

Like  music  heard  in  perfumed  bowers, 
It  sweetly  charms  life's  halcyon  hours,  — 

Mary! 

What  name,  amid  kind  friendship's  throng, 
Sounds  purer  in  a  poet's  song, 

Than  Mary  ? 

It  echoes  kindly  in  the  heart, 
And  can  the  tenderest  thoughts  impart,  — 

Mary ! 

What  whispered  tone  is  sooner  heard, 
Or  holier  thoughts  in  quiet  stirred, 

Than  Mary  ? 

It  breathes  of  pure  and  heavenly  love, 
Transplanted  from  the  courts  above,  — 

Mary ! 


MARY.  59 

It  is  a  name  that  angels  know, 
For  they  all  saw  the  fame  below, 

Of  "  Mary." 

And  love  and  friendship  plainly  spoke, 
When  once  the  "  box  of  ointment "  broke,  — 

Mary! 

Full  many  a  deed  in  sacred  song 
Must  still  in  gratitude  belong 

To  "Mary." 

The  memory  of  that  humble  name 
True  piety  and  worth  proclaim,  — 

Mary ! 

What  more  euphonious  name  can  cheer, 
Or  holy  thoughts  make  still  more  dear, 

Than  "  Mary  "  ? 

Then  let  me  hear  the  music  long, 
Still  let  it  charm  my  muse's  song,  — 

Mary ! 

May  but  the  memory  of  this  word, 
In  darkness  or  in  sunshine  heard,  — 

Of  Mary, 

E'er  bring  responses  to  my  heart, 
Too  sweet,  too  pure,  to  soon  depart,  — 

Mary! 

And  when  my  race  is  almost  run, 
My  work  on  earth  forever  done, 

Here,  Mary ! 

May  one  loved  sound  fall  on  my  ear, 
If  but  in  one  kind  whisper  clear,  — 

Mary ! 


60  AUTUMN    LEAVES. 


AUTUMN    LEAVES. 

AUTUMN  leaflets  gently  falling 

To  the  soil  which  gave  them  birth, 
With  their  gorgeous  colors  blending 

Like  a  rainbow  dropped  to  earth, 
Speak  in  accents  sad,  but  truthful, 

Of  those  hopes  we  hold  most  dear, 
"  Whispering,  like  the  sweetest  music, 

Blessed  thoughts  the  heart  to  cheer. 

First,  in  vigor  bright  and  healthful, 

With  their  emerald  beauty  dressed, 
Fanned  by  zephyrs  richly  laden 

With  the  odors  of  the  West, 
Sunny  skies  above  them  bending 

Sport  they  all  in  life's  young  morn, 
To  each  beauteous  scene  bestowing 

Eden's  freshness  with  the  dawn. 

Now  with  vestures  richly  varied, 

Russet,  orange,  green,  and  red, 
Crowning  all  the  woods  with  glory 

Ere  they  seek  their  mossy  bed  ; 
Thus  they  leave  a  welcome  picture 

As  a  parting  gift  to  all, 
Lest  we  mourn  too  much  their  absence, 

Or  lament  their  lowly  fall. 

One  by  one  they  droop  and  wither, 
Touched  by  Autumn's  chilling  frost, 

Till  bright  leaves,  with  silver  linings, 
Are  in  all  their  beauty  lost : 


BRING     FLOWERS.  61 

Lost  to  sight,  not  dead  forever, 

For  in  memory's  hall  remain 
Fairest  landscapes,  fresh  and  fadeless, 

Till  glad  Spring  shall  bloom  again. 

So  life's  scenes  are  often  changeful, 

Varying  with  the  light  and  shade  ; 
Where  the  fairest  flowers  blossom, 

There  the  thorn  its  home  hath«made. 
But  though  clouds  may  dim  our  prospects, 

And  our  fondest  hopes  decay, 
Brighter  is  the  day  before  us, 

When  the  night  is  chased  away. 

Like  cool  autumn's  fading  leaflets, 

We  must  heed  our  final  call, 
When  the  silver  cord  is  loosened, 

And  the  shadows  round  us  fall ; 
Then  with  pure,  angelic  beauty, 

Free  from  every  earthly  stain, 
Then  the  soul  shall  find  its  treasures, 

When  its  spring-time  comes  again. 


BRING    FLOWERS. 

BRING  flowers  to  me  each  sunny  morn, 

Bespangled  with  the  dew ; 
For  gifts  like  these,  so  pure  and  fair, 

Awaken  thoughts  of  you. 
I  '11  breathe  their  fragrance  floating  near 

When  silent  and  alone, 
And  bless  the  hand  that  gathered  them, 

To  make  them  all  mine  own. 
5 


62  BRING    FLOWERS. 

Bring  flowers,  for  they  sweetly  tell 

Of  blooming  meads  around,  — 
Of  pleasant  nooks,  where  velvet  leaves 

Of  every  shade  are  found. 
Bring  lilies  from  the  crystal  stream,  — 

Wild  roses  from  the  wall,  — 
Full  many  a  pet  from  woodland  homes, 

Which  former  days  recall. 

I  love  the  mild  and  gentle  breath 

Which  wakes  the  buds  of  spring, 
And  bids  the  fragrant  violets  bloom, 

To  which  fond  memories  cling. 
E'en  now  I  think  I  see  them  smile 

Upon  the  hillocks  green, 
Just  peeping  with  cerulean  eyes 

The  golden  moss  between. 

I  love  the  welcome  summer,  too, 

Replete  with  beauteous  flowers, 
Which  scatter  incense  through  the  air, 

And  charm  the  twilight  hours ; 
Like  sisters,  hand  in  hand  they  glide 

To  beauty's  gay  boudoir,  — 
One  turns  the  key  with  fragrant  hand 

The  other  opes  the  door. 

Within  a  treasury  of  sweets 

Would  I  in  quiet  rest, 
And  hold  some  blushing  roses  close 

To  my  sad,  troubled  breast ; 
Then  should  I  dream  of  lovely  bowers, 

Where  health  and  beauty  stay, 
While  speed  the  joyous,  happy  hours 

Throughout  the  livelong  day. 


JESUS,     MY     HOPE.  63 

When  I  am  gone,  let  flowers  smile 

Above  my  lowly  form, 
Because  a  weary  soul  has  passed 

Beyond  life's  fitful  storm  ; 
With  perfumed  lips  they  plainly  tell 

Of  life  beyond  the  tomb, 
Where  God  shall  with  a  holy  light 

The  darkest  way  illume. 


JESUS,    MY    HOPE. 

WITH  hope  in  Christ,  I  fear  no  ill, 
For  his  right  hand  supports  me  still, 
Though  trials  here  my  paths  surround, 
I  boast  in  him  my  strength  is  found ; 
He  will  supply  sustaining  grace 
To  those  who  seek  with  love  his  face. 

When  clouds  around  my  tent  prevail, 
And  gloomy  thoughts  my  peace  assail,  — 
When  cherished  hopes  are  severed  here, 
Where  strong  hearts  know  the  bitter  tear, 
In  him  a  safe  retreat  I  find, 
A  refuge  from  each  stormy  wind. 

When  bound  by  sad  affliction's  chain, 
Oppressed  with  grief,  beset  with  pain, 
When  tedious  days  new  troubles  weave, 
So  that  to  dust  my  soul  would  cleave, 
One  lively  hope  illumes  the  night,  — 
Jesus  is  near,  though  veiled  from  sight. 

When  joy  and  love  extend  their  wings, 
My  heart  with  wonder  often  sings, 


64  JESUS,     MY    HOPE. 

• 

That  I  have  found  in  one  so  dear 

A  bosom  friend,  forever  near, 

Who  will  his  promises  defend, 

And  ne'er  forsake,  though  time  should  end. 

In  Jesus  all  my  peace  is  found, 

He  makes  my  purest  joys  abound, 

He  bids  me  at  his  table  wait, 

To  share  the  banquet,  free  and  great ; 

I  tarry  long,  my  soul  is  fed 

By  angel  hands  with  heavenly  bread.  . 

His  presence  I  more  highly  prize 
Than  all  the  gold  beneath  the  skies  ; 
My  birthright  here  I  would  not  lose, 
For  all  the  honors  I  could  choose  ; 
More  precious  far  than  rubies  rare 
His  words  my  cherished  treasures  are. 

When  on  the  mount  of  faith  I  stand, 
And  view  the  promised  "  better  land," 
My  soul  rejoices  then  to  hear 
The  glorious  day  is  drawing  near, 
When  "  this  same  Jesus  "  shall  again 
"  Return "  to  earth,  with  saints  to  reign. 

That  blessed  day  I  long  to  see, 
When  Israel's  hope  complete  shall  be, 
When,  gathered  by  their  Shepherd's  arm, 
The  "  little  flock  "  shall  fear  no  harm  ; 
For  pain  and  death  shall  be  no  more, 
Nor  tears  be  known  on  Canaan's  shore. 

Blest  Jesus !  I  would  see  thy  face, 
In  whom  I  trust  for  every  grace ; 
Thy  friendly  counsels  I  would  hear, 
With  cheerful  heart  and  willing  ear ; 


FALLING      SNOW.  65 

O,  grant  me  still  thy  power  divine, 
Thy  arms  of  love  round  me  entwine  ! 

His  name  shall  be  my  theme  of  praise 
Throughout  the  remnant  of  my  days ; 
And  when  within  the  vale  of  death, 
Then  with  my  last  expiring  breath 
Confiding  still  will  I  look  up, 
And  loud  exclaim,  "  Jesus,  my  hope  ! " 

And  when  the  last  loud  trump  shall  sound, 
To  call  the  sleeping  from  the  ground, 
When  from  the  skies  our  King  shall  come, 
To  give  the  saints  their  own  "  sweet  home," 
In  grateful  strains  shall  I  rejoice 
That  Jesus  was  my  special  choice. 


FALLING    SNOW. 

IN  airy  crowds  from  the  regions  above, 

Silent  and  pure  as  a  whisper  of  love, 

These  Winged  sprites  in  their  chariots  white, 

Descend  to  earth  like  an  army  of  light. 

They  pitch  their  tents  on  the  steep  mountain's  side, 

In  vales  beneath,  where  the  pure  streamlets  glide,  — 

They  rest  content  in  the  tops  of  the  trees, 

And  fearlessly  sport  day  and  night  with  the  breeze. 

Like  knights  in  ermine  with  glistening  spears, 

They  sally  forth  when  the  storm-king  appears, 

And  scale  high  walls,  standing  never  aloof, 

But  post  their  sentries  on  casement  and  roof; 

Their  countless  hosts  in  battalions  press  on, 

So  fast  that  triumph  is  sure  to  be  won, 


66  THE     BETTER     LAND. 

And  paeans  loud  are  then  borne  by  the  gale, 

O'er  white-crowned  turrets,  —  through  each  lonely  vale,  — 

Through  forests  dark  to  the  wild-rolling  sea, 

To  plunge  in  the  mists  of  immensity. 

They  reign  supreme  in  the  shadows  of  night, 

And  safely  roam  by  the  moon's  silvery  light ; 

With  sandals  light,  over  meadow  and  hill, 

And  dance  with  glee  o'er  the  ice-fettered  rill. 

With  downy  crests,  with  the  wind  for  their  steed, 

They  ride  unharmed  where  their  fancy  may  lead, 

Approaching  slowly  where  bright  fires  gleam, 

To  pass  away  as  a  beautiful  dream. 

With  fingers  soft,  they  oft  play  with  our  hair, 

Departing  soon,  ere  we  know  they  are  there, 

And  try  in  glee  to  provoke  a  bright  smile, 

While  dancing  close  to  our  eyelids  the  while. 

Untamed  and  free  they  oft  dare  to  sip 

Nectarian  sweets  from  the  pure  ruby  lip 

Of  maidens  fair,  who  would  blush  to  bestow 

A  gift  so  freely  to  others  we  know ; 

But  caught  at  last,  they  do  penance  in  tears, 

And  vanish  soon  as  the  birth  of  their  fears. 

With  purest  lips  they  kiss  the  blue  stream, 

Then  melt  away  in  a  sweet  dewy  dream, 

And  slumber  on,  wishing  never  to  rise, 

Till  silent,  unseen,  they  ascend  to  the  skies. 


THE     BETTER    LAND, 

THERE  is  a  land,  a  better  land, 

Beyond  this  earthly  scene, 
Whose  shores  we  eager  long  to  see, 

Though  dark  waves  roll  between. 


THE     BETTER     LAND.  67 

We  wish  to  view  those  flowery  banks, 

Washed  by  the  living  stream, 
And  gaze  upon  those  wondrous  things, 

Unknown  to  fancy's  dream. 

We  wish  to  breathe  the  balmy  air, 

With  fragrance  e'er  replete, 
And  see  the  crystal  dew-drops  fall 

Like  diamonds  at  our  feet ; 
We  long  to  gaze  the  landscape  o'er, 

All  spangled  with  pure  gems, 
And  pluck  the  blushing  roses  there, 

Without  their  thorny  stems. 

We  long  to  hear  those  heavenly  strains 

The  angels  love  to  sing, 
To  which  the  golden  harps  are  made 

Their  sweetest  notes  to  bring. 
Most  gladly  would  we  lend  an  ear 

To  the  eternal  song, 
And  join  to  swell  the  chorus  loud, 

With  all  the  ransomed  throng. 

No  sickness,  pain,  nor  death  shall  there 

Our  ceaseless  pleasures  mar, 
For  sin  shall  be  forever  kept 

With  all  its  ills  afar. 
Unfading  beauty  then  shall  press 

Her  signet  on  each  brow, 
And  blooming  health  no  more  decay 

Like  fragile  flowers,  as  now. 

We  long  to  pluck  the  precious  fruit 

From  the  blest  tree  of  life, 
Whose  wondrous  leaves  forever  heal 

The  nations  of  their  strife  ; 


68  THE     BETTER     LAND. 

We  then  shall  feast  on  angels'  food, 
And  have  them  for  our  guests, 

For  in  that  glorious  world  of  light 
The  curse  no  longer  rests. 

All  tears  shall  then  be  wiped  away, 

Their  fountain  shall  be  dry, 
And  ne'er  in  secret  shall  be  known 

The  burden  of  a  sigh  ; 
All  doubts  and  gloomy  thoughts  shall  flee 

Like  leaves  before  the  wind, 
Nor  leave  the  faintest  shadow  there, 

To  cloud  a  peaceful  mind. 

Unequalled  glories  there  shall  pass 

Before  our  constant  view, 
Which  shall  our  senses  never  tire, 

Because  forever  new  ; 
Each  beauteous  prospect  shall  conspire 

To  give  us  fresh  delight ; 
Eye  has  not  seen,  ear  has  not  heard, 

One  half  the  blissful  sight. 

We  long  to  gaze  on  the  new  earth,  — 

That  promised  "  better  land,"  — 
And  with  immortal  honors  blest, 

Amid  its  wonders  stand. 
Then  let  me  end  my  journey  here, 

And  with  rejoicing  come 
To  claim  my  birthright  in  that  world,  — 

My  glorious  heavenly  home. 


COME    TO     THE     WOODS.  69 


COME     TO     THE    WOODS. 

COME  with  me  to  the  fragrant  woods 

When  skies  are  bright  and  fair, 
And,  in  the  depths  of  their  solitudes, 

Forget  thy  toils  and  care. 

Come  stand  with  me  'neath  the  whispering  pine, 

And  gather  sweet  leaves  of  fern, 
And  on  the  hillocks  of  green  recline, 

And  drink  from  Nature's  urn. 

Come  list  with  me  to  the  wild  bird's  notes, 

As  to  his  mate  he  calls, 
While  silvery  music  in  silence  floats, 

As  if  in  echoing  halls. 

Sit  near  the  bank  of  the  rippling  stream, 

Which  gayly  glides  along, 
Where  golden  rays  of  warm  sunshine  gleam, 

And  dance  to  the  wavelet's  song. 


'a' 


Inhale  the  cooling  and  perfumed  air 

Within  the  mossy  dell, 
Where  flowerets  nestle  contented  there, 

Their  own  sweet  words  to  tell. 

Commune  with  Nature,  and  humbly  bow 

Beneath  this  leafy  dome, 
And  hear  the  voices  she  utters  now, 

Before  thy  footsteps  roam. 

God  speaketh  by  the  whispering  leaf, 

And  in  the  laughing  rill,  — 
In  perfumes  which  bright  flowers  bequeath, 

And  silently  distil. 


70  THE    MORNING     SHOWER. 

A  "  still,  small  voice  "  is  most  plainly  heard 

Within  a  forest  bower, 
Which  holy  feelings  of  joy  can  stir, 

By  their  transforming  power. 

Let  all  behold  the  proofs  of  love, 

With  warmest  gratitude, 
And  view  the  hand  which  can  lead  above, 

E'en  in  deep  solitude. 


THE    MORNING    SHOWER. 

ONCE  more  the  burning  eye  of  day 
Peeps  through  the  gates  of  morn, 

While  lurid  beams  of  mellow  light 
The  lowering  skies  adorn. 

No  joyous  songs  of  tuneful  birds 

Come  from  the  silent  woods, 
And  cooling  winds  fold  up  their  wings, 

In  deepest  solitudes. 

No  breath  disturbs  the  hanging  vines, 

Nor  stirs  the  bending  grain  ; 
And  drooping  flowerets  sadly  pine 

For  cool,  refreshing  rain. 

The  murmuring  streams,  with  plaintive  strains, 

The  general  burden  share,  — 
All  nature  seems  in  silence  hushed, 

As  if  in  sacred  prayer. 


THE     MORNING     SHOWER.  71 


The  stillness  breaks,  —  the  fluttering  leaves 

Proclaim  the  signs  of  rain, 
And  whisper  from  the  topmost  boughs 

The  welcome  news  again. 

The  burdened  clouds,  with  generous  hand, 

Unlock  their  treasures  fast, 
And  thirsty  earth,  with  parching  lips, 

Receives  the  boon  at  last. 

Then  smiles  with  dewy  sparkling  eye 

Fair  children  of  the  wood, 
And  dripping  lilies  bow  their  heads 

With  tears  of  gratitude. 

Bright,  sunny  skies  smile  lovingly 

-O'er  all  the  meadows  green, 
And  dimpled  brooks  and  laughing  rills 

Rejoice  to  grace  the  scene. 

The  emerald  twigs  are  thickly  strung 

With  beads  of  silver  light, 
In  which  a  thousand  rainbows  blend, 

And  cheer  the  wondering  sight. 

Sweet  odors  from  the  spicy  groves 
Pervade  the  cool,  soft  air,  — 

An  offering  sweet  from  thousand  lips, 
Which  breathe  pure  praises  there. 

So,  when  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  hide 
Life's  fairest,  sunniest  skies,  — 

When  gloomy  scenes  on  every  hand 
Thy  burdened  soul  apprise ; 


72  "I    PITY     YOU." 

Let  faith,  beyond  the  darksome  veil, 

Behold  the  hand  divine, 
Which,  thus  concealed,  but  comes  more  near 

To  make  choice  blessings  thine. 


«!    PITY    YOU." 

"  I  PITY  you ! "     O  the  sweet,  kindly  word, 
Which  I  in  the  depths  of  my  great  sorrow  heard, 

One  weary  day ; 

It  fell  on  my  heart  like  the  whisperings  of  peace, 
Whose  echoing  notes  will  not  speedily  cease, 

Nor  fade  away. 

Were  I  estranged  from  my  beautiful  home, 
Where  affectionate  words  could  not  speedily  come 

To  cheer  my  heart ;  • 

How  would  such  accents,  in  sweet,  quiet  dreams, 
Dropped  on  my  ear,  like  bright  golden  beams, 

Bid  grief  depart. 

'T  was  a  token  of  friendship,  both  cheering  and  good, 
To  comfort  the  feeble  in  deep  solitude, 

When  all  alone ; 

Like  sweet  music  vibrating  on  memory's  ear, 
It  will  cheer  me  in  sadness,  when  trials  are  near, 

When  friends  have  gone. 


THE     LAST     GOOD-BY.  73 


THE    LAST    GOOD-BY. 

WHEN  cherished  friends  beside  us  stand, 
And  warmly  grasp  the  parting  hand, 
With  trembling  voice  and  tearful  eye, 
We  scarce  can  speak  the  last  "  Good-by.' 

What  grief  and  sadness  fill  the  heart, 
When  with  true  friends  we  have  to  part, 
A  vacancy,  so  lone  and  drear, 
Can  but  provoke  the  sorrowing  tear. 

The  last  few  hours,  though  far  the  best, 
Thus  soon  embitter  all  the  rest ; 
The  cup  we  thought  so  full  of  joy 
Has  yet  some  dregs,  some  base  alloy. 

Though  absent,  thy  fond  name  will  be 
Held  long  in  generous  memory ; 
Each  friendly  act,  though  e'er  so  small, 
Will  dearest  feelings  oft  recall. 

As  roses  smile  in  tinted  bloom, 
To  charm  the  air  with  sweet  perfume, 
E'en  while  we  all  their  beauties  view, 
The  thorn  intrudes,  a  partner  too. 

So  in  this  desecrated  earth, 
Where  ills  like  enemies  have  birth, 
In  its  gay  scenes  we  long  may  share, 
But  sin  lies  hid  to  sting  us  there. 


74  THE     LAST     GOOD -BY. 

There  is  a  world  forever  bright, 
Where  pleasures  bloom  in  holy  light, 
Which  never  with  their  fragrance  bring 
Sad  ills  at  last,  like  thorns  to  sting. 

There  is  a  land,  where  fadeless  flowers, 
Perpetual  grow  in  sacred  bowers, 
Whose  charms  forever  give  delight, 
With  naught  combined  to  grieve  the  sight. 

There  is  a  home,  where  angel  choirs 
Attune  their  songs  to  golden  lyres,  — 
Where  discord's  hand  has  ne'er  been  given 
To  rudely  sweep  the  keys  of  heaven. 

There  all  is  perfect,  pure,  and  free 
All  good  to  seize,  no  ill  to  flee ; 
And  every  scene  new  joys  shall  bring, 
To  make  the  heart  for  gladness  sing. 

There  friendship's  sweetest  bond  shall  reign 
Supreme  through  all  the  happy  train, 
And  every  voice  accord  to  swell 
The  praises  of  Immanuel. 

There  friends  who  love  may  meet  again 
Beyond  the  reach  of  grief  and  pain, 
No  parting  tears  shall  dim  the  eye, 
Nor  there  be  heard  the  last  "  Good-by." 


TO     A    FRIEND.  75 


TO    A    FRIEND. 

UNWEARIED,  may  peace  like  a  heavenly  dove, 
E'er  close  to  thy  heart  fold  its  white  wings  of  love, 
Permitting  no  evil  the  treasure  to  gain, 
Enshrined  as  a  jewel,  and  free  from  all  stain. 

May  thy  graces  shine  forth  for  the  world  to  behold, 
Like  gems  fitly  set  in  a  casket  of  gold, 
More  precious,  however,  more  lasting  than  they, 
Revealing  their  beauties  more  plainly  each  day. 

May  blessings  from  heaven  most  freely  descend, 
Like  angels'  blest  visits  thy  steps  to  attend, 
Besprinkling  thy  pathway  with  incense  and  flowers, 
Delighting  thy  heart  through  youth's  halycon  hours. 

As  the  rainbow's  tints  with  their  sevenfold  ray, 
Unitedly  blend  in  one  gorgeous  array, 
Even  so  undivided,  so  blest  to  the  view, 
May  good  deeds  appear,  pure  and  lovely  in  you. 

The  hand  of  affection  shall  gladly  entwine 
A  wreath  for  thy  brow  that  with  honor  shall  shine, 
Which  the  olive  and  myrtle  shall  blush  to  behold, 
As  its  glories  more  constant  and  fadeless  unfold. 

As  the  stars  peep  so  calmly  through  curtains  of  night, 
Lest  their  beauty  should  dazzle  with  glory  too  bright, 
So  may  all  your  actions  of  kindness  and  love 
As  silently  bless  as  their  types  shine  above. 


76  TO     A     FRIEND. 

As  the  daisies  recline  on  their  green,  mossy  bed, 
And  modestly  smile  on  the  dews  which  they  shed, 
As  the  violets  nod  on  their  silvery  sheen, 
So  gentle  with  grace  may  your  ways  e'er  be  seen. 

May  the  fountain  of  wisdom  spring  forth  to  thy  view, 
And  bear  on  its  bosom  pure  blessings  for  you, 
Enriching  thy  treasures  with  jewels  more  rare 
Than  rubies  and  pearls  howe'er  costly  and  fair. 

Should  trials  thy  heart  with  sadness  appall, 

And  the  mantle  of  grief  on  thy  spirit  e'er  fall, 

May  the  bright  bow  of  promise  soon  gladden  thy  sky, 

And  the  day  brighter  shine  when  the  night  has  passed  by. 

When  youth's  roses  shall  fade,  and  thy  strength  shall  decline, 
As  quickly  are  numbered  the  brief  sands  of  time  ; 
May  thy  heart  then  rejoice  at  the  prospect  of  rest, 
Where  evils  come  not,  and  the  righteous  are  blest. 

Should  scenes  of  temptation  invite  thy  delay, 
As  homeward  with  patience  you  journey  each  day, 
Then  gaze  on  that  star,  ever  radiant  with  love, 
Which  will  on  thy  pilgrimage  guide  thee  above. 

Press  on  to  thy  goal,  for  thy  crown  is  in  sight, 
Already  it  sparkles  with  celestial  light, 
Blest  angels  are  waiting,  with  welcome  to  greet 
Thy  joyous  arrival,  where  bliss  is  complete. 


SUMMER     WINDS.  77 


SUMMER    WINDS. 

BLOW  on,  ye  summer  breezes,  blow, 

And  bring  your  tribute  near, 
Which  noiseless  lips  from  flowerets  kissed, 

In  sunshine  warm  and  clear ; 
From  laughing  rills  and  pleasant  vales, 

Where  silvery  echoes  play, 
A  cooling  freshness  bring  to  me, 

To  cheer  each  weary  day. 

O,  bear  to  me  an  offering  sweet, 

Which  distant  meads  withhold, 
Which  hath  ar  secret  power  to  please 

The  youthful  and  the  old. 
From  dripping  leaves  and  beaded  stems, 

From  petals  fair  and  bright, 
Convey  the  gifts  each  would  resign, 

To  cheer  my  lonely  night. 

From  spotless  lilies  floating  wide 

Upon  their  native  stream, 
Whose  fairy  forms  in  azure  set, 

Like  snowy  cloudlets  seem,  — 
Give  me  the  perfumed  words  they  breathe 

Of  purity  and  love, 
When  sunny  skies  serenely  fair 

Smile  tranquilly  above. 

O,  bear  to  me  the  gladsome  songs 

Of  birdlings  blithe  and  gay, 
Who  wake  to  hail,  in  chorus  sweet, 

The  opening  gates  of  day  ; 
6 


78  TOSUSIE. 

When  murmuring  woodlands,  lawn,  and  stream 

Join  in  the  general  strain, 
And  joy  with  welcome  smiles  to  greet 

Day's  golden  car  again. 

Then  still  blow  on,  ye  breezes  fair, 

And  health  and  joy  impart ! 
Dispense  your  bounties  wide  and  far, 

And  cheer  each  lonely  heart ! 
May  summer  winds,  and  birds,  and  flowers 

Proclaim  the  love  and  care 
Of  Him  who  graciously  bestows 

His  blessings  everywhere. 


TO    SUSIE. 

ANOTHER  new  year  has  now  dawned  on  thy  life  : 
May  its  memories  know  neither  sorrow  nor  strife ; 
May  no  tears  fill  thy  chalice,  of  sadness  or  pain, 
But  blessings  be  numbered  again  and  again. 

May  thy  heart,  like  a  rose-bud  expanding  and  free, 
E'er  drink  of  the  dews  which  are  treasured  for  thee, 
Of  peace  and  of  pleasure,  of  quiet  and  joy, 
Which  no  hand  can  remove,  which  no  foe  can  destroy. 

May  thy  lips  speak  of  wisdom,  and  goodness,  and  truth, 
Which  like  pearls  ever  sparkle  through  bright  scenes  of  youth; 
May  thy  sceptre  be  chosen  in  meekness  and  love, 
And  thy  gifts  be  as  manna  bestowed  from  above. 

May  thy  smiles,  like  a  rose-tinted  morning  in  May, 
Soon  scatter  all  cloudlets  of  sorrow  away  ; 
May  no  mists  of  despondency  veil  thy  bright  sky, 
But  visions  of  beauty  e'er  beam  from  on  high. 


ON   THE    DEATH    OF   AN   AGED    PILGRIM.     79 

On  thy  brow  may  contentment  in  majesty  rest, 
Thus  showing  thee  happy,  and  joyous,  and  blest ; 
May  the  light  in  thine  eye  show  the  true  light  within, 
Springing  up  from  its  fountain  new  praises  to  win. 

Then  peaceful  and  prosperous  shall  all  thy  bright  days 
Pass  smoothly  along,  with  their  meed  full  of  praise ; 
Each  year,  as  it  adds  to  thy  life's  golden  chain, 
Shall  number  thy  pearls  of  rejoicing  again. 

May  angels  attend  thee  by  night  and  by  day, 

To  guide  thee  aright  lest  thy  footsteps  should  stray ; 

Look  upward !  press  onward  toward  the  land  of  sweet  rest,  — 

That  beautiful  home  where  the  righteous  are  blest ! 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  AGED  PILGRIM. 

How  precious  is  the  death  of  those 
Who  gladly  take  their  last  repose, 
As  fearless  as  a  child  may  rest 
Upon  a  loving  mother's  breast, 
Confiding  in  their  Saviour's  power 
To  wake  them  at  the  promised  hour. 
To  "  sleep  in  Jesus,"  —  blessed  thought ! 
O,  what  has  grace  for  sinners  wrought ! 
Deliverance  from  earth's  dreaded  foe, — 
Redemption  from  all  sin  below,  — 
A  glorious  hope  of  bliss  to  come,  — 
The  "  earnest "  of  our  better  home,  — 
A  constant  peace  within  the  breast, 
When  by  affliction's  hand  distrest,  — 
A  quiet  rest  from  toil  and  care,  — 
A  glorious  crown  in  heaven  to  wear. 


80      ON    THE    DEATH    OF   AN    AGED    PILGRIM, 

How  peaceful  is  the  closing  day 

Of  aged  saints,  who  pass  away, 

Forsaking  all  the  ills  of  earth, 

Where  tears  and  sorrows  have  their  birth,  — 

Who  joy  to  reach  the  heavenly  shore, 

To  greet  the  loved  ones  gone  before, 

With  them  and  angels  loud  to  swell 

The  praises  of  Immanuel. 

How  sweet  to  know  the  absent  one 

The  narrow  way  so  long  had  run ; 

Amid  the  varied  scenes  of  life,      )  •  /* 

Amid  its  toils,  its  cares,  its  strife, 

Had  kept  fair  Bethlehem's  star  in  sight, 

That  surest  guide  by  day  or  night ; 

Still  journeying  on  from  day  to  day, 

Rejoicing  in  her  hope  alway, 

And  dropping  gems  of  precious  truth, 

To  please  the  old,  to  charm  the  youth, 

Showing  the  path  they  ought  to  tread, 

By  following  Christ,  the  Living  Head. 

How  sweet  the  memory  of  the  blest, 
Who  thus  so  surely  find  their  rest, 
Rejoicing  in  those  gifts  of  love 
Descending  from  the  throne  above, 
Partaking  of  that  heavenly  joy, 
Unmixed  with  any  base  alloy, 
And  drinking  from  life's  fountain  pure, 
Which  will  unfailing  bliss  secure. 
How  kind  their  many  deeds  of  love, 
Still  treasured  up  for  her  above, 
As  brilliants  in  her  dazzling  crown, 
Which  on  earth's  diadems  might  frown, 
Whose  bright  example  while  below, 
Like  flowers,  still  bloom  where'er  we  go, 
And  yield  a  perfume  rare  and  sweet, 
With  every  charm  and  grace  replete, 


ON    THE   DEATH    OF   AN   AGED    PILGKIM.      81 

To  cheer  us  on  our  homeward  way, 
While  in  earth's  thorny  paths  we  stay. 

How  pleasant  on  some  evening  hour, 
When  darkness  round  our  tents  may  lower, 
In  pensive  sadness,  calm,  and  still, 
When  prayers  rich  blessings  pure  distil, 
To  think  of  every  kindly  word 
Which  we  have  in  her  presence  heard : 
And  then  with  grateful  joy  recall 
Those  counsels,  which  once  used  to  fall 
Like  precious  fruit,  both  rich  and  sweet, 
From  her  dear  lips,  —  a  blessing  meet,  — 
Which  kept  us  in  the  way  of  truth, 
While  in  the  slippery  paths  of  youth,  — 
Which  cheered  us  in  maturer  years, 
And  sweetly  calmed  our  saddest  fears. 

That  welcome  smile  we  used  to  see, 
Like  blessed  sunshine,  warm  and  free, 
Which  banished  our  young  griefs  away, 
And  bade  our  tears  no  longer  stay. 
We  cherish  for  its  charming  power, 
Which  oft  beguiled  a  pensive  hour, 
And  even  now,  in  our  deep  grief, 
Its  memory  gives  us  some  relief, 
Illuminating  the  dark  clouds, 
Which  our  sad  hearts  with  sorrow  shrouds. 
Well  we  recall  the  joy  she  took 
In  reading  from  that  Holy  Book, 
Which  speaks  of  life  beyond  the  tomb, 
And  robs  the  grave  of  all  its  gloom,  — 
Which  cheers  the  pilgrim  travelling  home, 
Where  age  and  sickness  never  come  ; 
And  how  she  claimed  each  promise  rare, 
And  feasted  on  rich  treasures  there, 


82  MY    FIRST    ROSE-BUD. 

Which  often  cheered  her  burdened  heart 
And  bid  desponding  thoughts  depart. 

Though  now  ye  sorrow,  yet  rejoice 

That  she  had  made  the  wiser  choice,  — 

That  she  had  sought  her  portion  where 

Can  come  no  pain,  no  fears,  no  care,  — 

No  more  with  secret  grief  to  mourn, 

Her  loving  heart  with  anguish  torn,  — 

No  more  to  weep  at  Zion's  gate, 

That  there  so  few  chose  their  estate; 

But  free  from  every  earthly  stain, 

On  Canaan's  ground  she  long  will  reign. 

Ye  sorrow  now,  yet  not  in  vain, 

The  "  dead  in  Christ "  shall  live  again ; 

Nor  shall  their  dust  forgotten  lie, 

When  Jesus  from  the  rending  sky, 

With  the  celestial  host,  shall  come 

To  call  his  faithful  children  home : 

With  immortality  put  on, 

The  grave  despised,  the  victory  won, 

Like  angels  made,  no  more  to  die, 

Their  conquering  shouts  shall  rise  on  high. 


MY    FIRST    ROSE-BUD. 

BEAUTIFUL,  most  beautiful, 

Bud  of  hope  and  promise,  too, 
With  its  new-born  cold's  fair, 

Sparkling  with  the  crystal  dew  ; 
And  those  fragrant  leaflets  rare 

Show  that  friendship  chose  them  well, 
Guarding  thus  my  fairy  queen, 

Like  a  prisoner  in  its  cell. 


MY    FIKST    ROSE-BUD.  83 

My  first  rose-bud,  fresh  and  fair, 

Harbinger  of  early  spring, 
Tenderest  thoughts  and  sympathies 

Now  to  me  you  gladly  bring. 
On  your  tiny  petals  bright 

Kindly  words  I  know  are  found, 
Which  I  quiet  list  to  hear, 

Though  there  comes  no  voice  nor  sound. 

Words  may  charm  the  outward  ear, 

Bidding  sorrow  soon  depart, 
Bringing  joy  and  gladness  oft 

To  a  lonely,  weary  heart ; 
But  bright  flowerets  —  "  angel's  thoughts  "  — 

Speak  of  peace,  and  truth,  and  love, 
Giving  to  the  burdened  soul 

Purest  blessings  from  above. 

When  long  hours  of  pain  are  mine, 

Passed  in  solitude  and  gloom, 
Then  sweet  roses  gemmed  with  dew 

Shall  bring  sunshine  to  my  room. 
Then  I  '11  think,  while  lone  and  still, 

I  am  not  by  all  forgot, 
While  is  found  one  tiny  bud, 

Or  one  bright  "  forget-me-not." 

Yes,  my  thoughts  shall  be  of  those 

Who  would  their  rare  pets  resign, 
Parting  with  their  cherished  gifts, 

Gladly  thus  to  make  them  mine  ; 
And  their  whispers  soft  I  '11  list, 

Meant  for  mine  own  ear  alone, 
And  delicious  fragrance  breathe, 

As  an  offering  all  their  own. 


84        "AS    RAIN    UPON    THE    MOWN    GRASS." 


LINES. 

SHOULD  darkness  o'er  thy  pathway  spread, 
And  threatening  clouds  hang  o'er  thy  head, 
And  trials  cause  thy  heart  to  mourn, 
By  deepest  sufferings  keenly  torn  ; 
Then  look  above,  where  skies  are  bright, 
Though  gloom  may  intercept  the  light, 
The  sun  still  shines,  though  hid  from  view, 
And  prayer  will  let  the  glory  through. 

For  rarest  gems  most  care  we  show, 
On  them  most  friction  we  bestow, 
To  find  their  beauty  and  their  worth, 
Hid  'neath  their  surface  at  their  birth  ; 
So  tears  and  pains,  and  toils  and  care 
Are  the  rough  sands  oft  used  to  wear 
The  coarseness  from  our  rougher  part, 
To  show  a  jewel  in  the  heart. 


"AS   RAIN  UPON   THE  MOWN  GRASS." 

As  on  the  fragrant  new-mown  grass 

Descends  the  summer  rain, 
Which  bids  the  drooping  flowers  revive, 

And  smile  with  joy  again ; 
So  may  thy  spirit  on  our  hearts 

Like  gentle  dews  distil, 
Imparting  to  us  needed  grace 

Our  mission  to  fulfil. 


THAT    FRIENDLY     GOOD-NIGHT.  85 

May  light  and  joy  and  peace  be  ours, 

Descending  from  above, 
Those  blessed  gifts  which  God  doth  send 

As  tokens  of  his  love  ; 
May  their  sweet  influence  give  us  cheer, 

When  sunshine  fades  away, 
And  bring  unto  our  burdened  souls 

The  gleams  of  heavenly  day. 


THAT    FRIENDLY    GOOD-NIGHT, 

O  YES,  how  I  miss  that  most  friendly  good-night, 
From  the  lips  of  one  always  so  dear : 

It  bathed  my  sad  spirits  with  soothing  delight, 
As  the  wish  fell  distinct  on  my  ear : 

That  friendly  "good  night ! " 
Its  echo  I  still  love  to  hear. 

How  sweet  was  the  accent  so  constantly  heard, 

Conveying  best  wishes  sincere, 
How  cheering,  how  welcome  was  each  kindly  word, 

As  I  eagerly  listened  to  hear : 
That  friendly  "  good  night ! " 

How  pleasing  those  words  now  appear. 

As  music  comes  warbling  across  the  green  lea, 

Or  dancing  quick  over  the  spray, 
So  sweet  was  each  note  on  its  errand  from  thee, 

To  banish  the  cares  of  the  day : 
That  friendly  " good  night!" 

May  its  melody  longer  delay. 


86  THAT    FRIENDLY     GOOD-NIGHT. 

That  friendly  good-night !  what  a  charni  it  possessed, 

So  simple,  yet  magic  its  power ; 
How  gladly  the  weary,  soon  sweetly  at  rest, 

Was  lost  to  a  lone  wakeful  hour : 
That  friendly  "good  night" 

Was  grateful  as  dews  to  the  flower. 

That  friendly  "  good  night ! "     O,  I  miss  it  e'en  now, 
From  a  friend  who  was  ever  so  dear ; 

When  pain  and  anxieties  troubled  my  'brow, 
Another  "  good-night "  I  now  hear : 

That  friendly  "good  night !  " 
Its  memory  wakens  a  tear. 

When  gloomy,  discouraged,  forsaken  by  all, 
That  voice  always  cheerful  and  kind, 

Ne'er  cheers  a  dark  moment,  from  grief  ne'er  recalls 
A  sad  and  disconsolate  mind : 

That  friendly  "good  night !  " 
Its  equal  I  hardly  shall  find. 

When  absent  from  friends,  where  rich  bounties  were 

strown 

Like  flowers  to  cheer  a  lone  way,  — 
Where  the  voice  of  affection  and  kindness  alone 
Was  ready  to  solace  each  day : 

That  friendly  "  good  night " 
No  more  crowns  the  last  toils  of  the  day. 

O  yes,  how  I  miss  that  expected  "good  night," 
When  the  cares  of  the  day  are  all  o'er ! 

E'en  now  it  would  fill  me  with  pleasing  delight, 

Could  I  hear  those  sweet  tones  but  once  more : 

That  friendly  "good  night ! " 
Its  absence  I  long  must  deplore. 


THE    MUSE'S    RESPONSE.  87 


THE    MUSE'S    EESPONSE. 

YES,  that  friendly  "good  night"  shall  be  most  truly  thine, 

Truly  thine, 

If  thou  wilt  but  receive  it  from  lips  such  as  mine ; 
And  the  warmest  of  feelings  can  spring  from  the  heart, 
To  bid  every  cloudlet  of  sorrow  depart, 

From  a  soul  like  thine. 

Yes,  that  friendly  "good  night"  shall  be  constantly  thine, 

Truly  thine, 

If  thou  wilt  but  make  it  of  friendship  the  sign, 
And  its  echoings  may  in  deep  stillness  be  heard, 
Like  the  fluttering  wings  of  some  pet  little  bird, 

In  a  heart  like  thine. 

A  heartfelt  "good  night"  has  a  sweet,  charming  power 

When  shadows  lower, 

Like  the  perfumed  breath  of  a  blushing  flower ; 
And  can  lead  one  into  the  land  of  dreams, 
Where  is  beauty  resplendent  with  love's  pure  beams, 

At  midnight  hour. 

Yes,  a  most  friendly  "good  night"  shall  be  freely  thine  own, 

Freely  thine  own, 

If  thou  wilt  but  claim  it  with  pleasure  alone ; 
It  may  lead  thee  while  roaming  in  some  blissful  scene, 
To  view  the  kind  hand  which  would  lead  thee,  I  ween, 

When  his  work  is  done. 

And  when  in  the  stillness  of  some  distant  hour, 

At  twilight  hour, 

You  muse  on  the  beauty  of  some  drooping  flower, 
Perhaps  you  may  think  of  the  weary,  away, 
Who  whispered  "  good  night "  at  the  close  of  each  day 

In  friendship's  bower. 


88  THAT     GENTLE    VOICE. 


THAT    GENTLE    VOICE. 

A  MUSIC  comes  at  eventide, 

On  fragrant  zephyrs  borne, 
Most  welcome  to  the  lonely  heart, 

Oft  by  afflictions  torn  ; 
So  grateful  comes  that  gentle  voice, 

Which  oft  my  sadness  quells, 
With  mellow  accents  soft  and  sweet, 

Like  chimes  from  silver  bells. 

That  gentle  voice  has  power  to  soothe, 

When  anxious  thoughts  arise, 
Like  secret  foes  to  mar  our  peace, 

And  dim  life's  sunniest  skies ; 
Like  sunshine  on  the  summer  cloud 

Their  shadows  briefly  last; 
A  few  bright  jewels  only  dropped 

As  tribute  to  the  past, 

When  weary  hours,  in  ceaseless  pain, 

Make  up  the  sufferer's  lot,  — 
When  earth's  fair  scenes  can  no  more  yield 

One  bright  forget-me-not,  — 
How  sweet  amid  surrounding  gloom 

To  hear  one  soothing  word, 
Which  kindest  sympathies  reveals 

From  hearts  with  pity  stirred! 

Good  angels  come,  at  evening  hour, 

When  weary  mortals  rest, 
And  whisper  things  in  visions  bright, 

Which  make  their  lives  more  blest ; 


THAT     GENTLE     VOICE.  89 

But  I  can  hear,  much  oftener  far, 

These  messengers  of  light, 
And  list  their  heavenly  words  to  cheer,  — 

My  day  is  changed  to  night. 

Good  spirits  may  not  always  come 

In  garments  softly  white, 
Or  make  their  blessed  tidings  known 

When  stars  are  beaming  bright ; 
They  oftener  come  in  humbler  forms,  — 

In  deeds  of  love,  —  in  flowers,  — 
In  welcome  gifts,  in  quiet  tones, 

To  cheer  the  weary  hours. 

Let  me  but  hear  some  kindly  words 

From  loving  hearts  and  true, 
Then  all  my  days  on  earth  are  blest, 

Though  chosen  friends  are  few ; 
Let  me  but  hear  a  cheering  voice, 

Which  no  sad  tidings  brings, — 
Which  speaks  in  accents  soft  and  sweet 

Of  pure  and  holy  things. 

Let  me  but  know  that  flowerets  bloom 

Around  my  pathway  still, 
Which  breathe  of  purity  and  truth, 

And  God's  most  righteous  will,  — 
Though  shadows  then  may  thickly  lower 

Around  my  tent  each  day,  — 
A  glorious  future,  far  more  bright, 

Shall  chase  my  night  away. 


90  ON    THE     DEATH     OF     E- 


ON  THE   DEATH  OF  MRS.   E G- 

How  oft  our  friends  are  snatched  away, 
Just  when  we  most  would  have  them  stay  ; 
When  round  our  hearts  they  firmly  twine 
Those  precious  bonds  we  ne'er  resign,  — 
Which  bind  the  good,  the  pure,  the  true 
With  love's  bright  chain,  forever  new. 
Like  flowers  of  the  fairest  bloom, 
They  die  to  yield  their  best  perfume, 
And  leave  a  tribute  choice  and  sweet, 
With  fondest  memories  e'er  replete  ; 
Their  virtues  then,  like  stars  of  night, 
Shine  forth  in  gloom  with  holy  light. 

How  much  we  miss  each  sunny  smile, 
Which  would  our  saddest  thoughts  beguile, 
And  those  loved  tones,  which  cheered  our  grief, 
And  gave  our  burdened  souls  relief. 
How  much  we  miss  that  friendly  hand, 
Which  welcomed  us  to  love's  own  band,  — 
Which  plucked  the  thorn  from  our  rough  way, 
And  strewed  the  flowers  of  peace  each  day ; 
How  much  we  miss  her  gentle  voice, 
Which  e'er  approved  our  wiser  choice  ; 
Who  heavenly  counsels  joyed  to  bring, 
To  make  our  hearts  for  gladness  sing,  — 
Who  dropped  the  words  of  truth  and  love, 
To  guide  our  feet  to  realms  above. 

How  sweet  to  know  that  those  who  sleep 
In  Christ,  himself  will  keep, 
As  in  a  precious  casket  fair,  — 
His  chosen  ones,  —  his  jewels  rare, 


ON     THE     DEATH     OF    E G .  91 

And  bring  them  from  the  silent  tomb, 
To  reign  as  victors  o'er  its  gloom, 
When  earth  renewed,  once  more  shall  be, 
From  every  stain  and  blemish  free ; 
When  nature  finds  its  sweet  release, 
To  welcome  Christ,  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

How  sweet  the  memory  of  the  blest, 
Who,  free  from  care,  are  now  at  rest,  — 
No  more  disturbed  by  sin  or  pain, 
No  more  to  know  earth's  toils  again, 
No  more  to  shed  the  sorrowing  tear, 
Or  part  with  friends  most  truly  dear,  — 
No  more  to  mourn  in  secret  grief 
For  whom  they  cannot  bring  relief,  — 
No  more  to  bear  within  their  breast 
The  burdens  of  those  long  distrest,  — 
No  more  to  mourn  for  friends  who  stay 
From  Zion's  band,  content,  away  ; 
But,  free  from  every  earthly  ill, 
Their  names  are  held  in  memory  still, 
By  One  who  ne'er  forgets  His  fold, 
Till  Truth  shall  fail,  and  Time  grows  old. 

Still  love  to  think  of  her  now  gone ; 
Though  weeping,  feel  not  quite  alone, 
For  others  mourn  in  sadness  too 
For  one  they  held  so  good  and  true,  — 
Who  ne'er  forget  her  deeds  of  love, 
Still  treasured  up  for  her  above ; 
Not  quite  alone,  for  One  is  known, 
Who  makes  our  bitterest  griefs  His  own ; 
Who,  though  He  wounds,  will  kindly  heal,"1 
And  also  his  own  love  reveal. 
Who  bids  us  seek  our  rest  above, 
And  all  His  wondrous  goodness  prove. 


92  THE  HOSE-BUD'S  LAMENT. 

Then  look  to  Him  in  joy  or  grief, 
For  there  is  found  a  sure  relief,  — 
Sweet  consolations  for  the  soul, 
Which  will  like  living  fountains  roll, 
Proceeding  from  the  throne  above, — 
The  source  of  light  and  truth  and  love. 


THE    KOSE-BUD'S    LAMENT. 

A  LITTLE  rose-bud,  fresh  and  fair, 
Watched  daily  with  most  tender  care, 
Above  the  garden's  common  store, 
Because  more  rare,  was  prized  the  more ; 
Yet  one  kind  heart,  who  plainly  knew 
No  lovelier  flower  sweeter  grew, 
Has  claimed  it  as  pure  friendship's  sign, 
Rejoicing  thus  to  make  it  mine. 

When  first  you  saw  its  tiny  leaves 
Expand  to  greet  the  summer  breeze, 
You  welcomed  it  with  many  a  smile, 
And  showed  it  all  your  friends  the  while ; 
And  as  it  daily  larger  grew, 
Your  joy  increased  in  measure  too ; 
Thus  well  I  know  the  price  you  set 
Upon  your  little  charming  pet. 

So  welcome  in  its  native  pride 

At  rest  with  leaflets  by  its  side, 

Just  peeping  from  its  mossy  bed, 

With  fragrant  petals  wide  outspread, 

A  shame  it  was  to  treat  it  so  ! 

And  let  your  cherished  favorite  go,  — 

To  banish  it  so  far  away, 

In  dreary  bondage  long  to  stay. 


THE   ROSE-BUD'S   LAMENT.  93 

Methought  I  saw  some  dewy  tears, 

As  it  revealed  its  secret  fears, 

Complaining  of  its  destined  lot, 

So  very  soon  to  be  forgot ; 

With  words  like  these,  it  bowed  its  head, 

As  if  all  happiness  had  fled, 

And  murmured  such  a  plaintive  tone, 

I  almost  made  its  grief  my  own. 

"  Kejoicing  in  my  pleasant  home, 

I  thought  no  darksome  cloud  would  come, 

To  cast  a  shadow  o'er  life's  sky, 

Or  cause  one  deep,  desponding  sigh. 

But  now,  alas !  when  I  would  be 

More  prized,  more  fondly  loved  by  thee, 

My  dreams  of  peace  have  well-nigh  flown, 

And  I  am  left  to  mourn  alone. 

"  Beside  the  casement,  day  by  day, 
I  welcomed  morn's  first  orient  ray, 
And  gave  it  here  a  dwelling-place, 
Upon  my  pure  and  spotless  face  ; 
But  now,  forsaken,  sad,  and  lone, 
My  fondest  hopes  are  almost  gone  ; 
I  mourn  in  silence,  like  a  dove 
Which  has  no  tender  mate  to  love. 

"  How  hard  my  lot,  when  day  by  day 
I  saw  your  smiles,  and  heard  you  say 
Most  pleasant  things  in  accents  clear, 
Which  I,  so  modest,  blushed  to  hear ; 
To  be,  while  long  your  chosen  pride, 
And  e'er  content  when  by  your  side, 
Held  captive  in  this  cheerless  gloom, 
Where  silence  reigns  e'en  like  the  tomb. 
7 


94  THE   HOSE-BUD'S   LAMENT. 

"  My  loveliness  cannot  appear 
Within  this  darksome  place  so  drear  ; 
For  tears  I  weep  my  perfume  fast, 
My  beauty  will  not  longer  last, 
My  grace  and  strength  must  soon  decay, 
Like  vapor  in  the  noontide  ray  ; 
Erelong  my  name  will  only  be 
Recorded  in  kind  memory. 

"  O,  were  you  false  in  all  your  praise, 
Which  was  to  me  as  sweetest  lays,  < 
Or  were  you  like  some  maidens  true, 
In  spite  of  all  they  say  or  do,  — 
And  did  you  show  your  love  more  plain, 
Against  which  I  would  not  complain, 
In  choosing  me,  because  the  best, 
To  cheer  the  heart  of  one  distressed  ? 

"  Were  such  the  case,  I  am  resigned; 
In  doing  good  some  joy  I  find  ; 
My  grace  will  not  be  quite  forgot, 
Like  flowerets  in  some  desert  spot ; 
My  mission  I  will  yet  fulfil, 
And  breathe  out  odors  sweeter  still ; 
And  though  I  prize  the  sunshine  most, 
Will  die  a  martyr  at  my  post. 

"  In  softest  whispers  I  will  tell 
Those  things  your  heart  approveth  well, 
Which  shall  like  balm  give  joy  and  peace, 
And  cause  the  soul  from  sadness  cease,  — 
Will  tell  of  realms  beyond  the  tomb, 
Where  lovelier  flowers  perennial  bloom, 
Which  yield  their  treasures  all  may  share, 
To  which  on  earth  can  naught  compare. 


A    FAREWELL     TO     GERTRUDE.  95 

"  I  then  will  tell  what  bliss  is  found, 
On  that  enchanted  holy  ground, 
Where  weary  pilgrims  find  a  home,  — 
Where  pains  and  trials  never  come. 
Such  consolation  would  I  show 
To  those  who  pine  for  rest  below ; 
And  as  my  drooping  petals  fall, 
Would  whisper,  Peace  !  to  crown  it  all." 


A    FAREWELL    TO    GERTRUDE. 

How  sad  to  take  the  parting  hand, 

And  speak  the  last  farewell, 
When  burdened  feelings  must  reveal 

What  lips  refuse  to  tell. 
Ah !  sad  indeed  the  last  kind  words 

Fall  on  the  listening  ear, 
They  wake  a  mournful  echo  there, 

Whose  accents  still  I  hear. 

In  dismal  solitude  I  watch, 

Each  weary  hour  alone, 
And  in  the  stillness  long  to  hear 

But  one  refreshing  tone. 
From  memory's  page  I  often  read 

Thy  deeds  of  kindness  o'er, 
But  list  in  vain,  through  weary  hours, 

To  hear  thy  voice  once  more. 

A  vacancy  steals  through  the  gloom, 

Throughout  the  livelong  day, 
As  if  a  bird  its  nest  had  left, 

For  woodlands  far  away,  — 


96  A    FAREWELL     TO     GERTRUDE. 

Where  orange-groves  and  fragrant  flowers 
Can  charm  each  happy  hour,  — 

Where  shadows  ne'er  oppress  the  mind, 
Nor  clouds  of  sorrow  lower,  — 

Where  loving  friends  and  generous  hearts 

In  expectation  wait, 
To  hear  thy  gladsome  song  again, 

As  for  a  dove  its  mate,  — 
Where  in  content  and  happiness, 

Far  in  a  sunny  clime, 
You  e'en  can  wear  those  garlands  fair 

Friendship  alone  can  twine. 

There  will  my  thoughts  unseen,  unknown, 

On  swiftest  pinions  soar, 
And  humbly  dare  commune  with  thee 

Within  thy  cottage  door,  — 
Where  e'en,  unbidden,  I  will  stay, 

And  in  my  fancy  roam, 
For  where  such  noble  hearts  abide 

I  long  should  find  a  home. 

Whose  words  of  kindly  sympathy 

Oft  stir  the  sufferer's  breast,  — 
They  charm  the  bitter  cup  of  pain, 

And  make  his  joys  more  blest. 
Each  gentle  tone  seems  then  to  come 

On  a  pure  angel's  wing, 
Whose  trembling  pinions  in  my  heart 

Eepeat  their  echoing. 

Upon  thy  heart  may  dews  distil 
From  the  pure  fount  of  Love, 

With  holiest  blessings  e'er  replete 
Which  crown  the  good  above ; 


THE     OLD     ELM.  97 

And  when  life's  silver  cord  is  loosed, 

When  earthly  ties  shall  cease, 
May  you,  within  the  pearly  gates, 

Find  blest,  eternal  peace. 


THE    OLD    ELM.* 

I  LOVE  the  old  elm  in  the  orchard, 

Which  slopes  to  the  edge  of  the  stream, 
Where,  with  all  the  fresh  spirits  of  boyhood, 

I  passed  through  life's  sunniest  dream ; 
Its  boughs  towered  high  in  their  grandeur, 

Far  up  in  the  fair  azure  sky, 
Where  songsters  might  nestle  their  birdlings, 

And  mischief  could  never  come  nigh. 

Its  roots  once  most  firmly  imbedded, 

Were  washed  by  the  oft-flowing  tide 
Which  told  to  all  sorrowing  school-boys, 

That  it  might  not  much  longer  abide. 
We  made  of  its  long-running  fibres 

Some  fairy-like  baskets  at  will, 
Which  earned  such  acceptable  praises, 

As  if  wrought  with  magical  skill. 

I  think  of  the  well-chosen  hollow, 
In  the  clean  grassy-carpeted  ground, 

Where  caps  filled  with  apples  were  carried, 
And  desserts  for  evening  were  found,  — 

*  That  graceful  elm  which  formerly  adorned  the  premises  of  the 
late  Nathaniel  Adams,  Esq.,  was  removed,  in  1844,  to  make  room  for 
the  modern  improvements  in  that  locality. 


98  THE     OLD     ELM. 

When  gathered  in  circles  most  friendly, 

And  cosey  as  birds  in  a  nest, 
We  listened  to  tales  oft  repeated, 

Exciting  each  juvenile  breast. 

How  often  those  tales,  which  in  childhood 

Are  mentioned  as  fanciful  things, 
Are  found  in  life's  warfare  more  truthful, 

In  facts  which  experience  brings  ;  — 
How  oft  are  those  bright  sunny  mornings, 

When  shadows  as  strangers  are  known, 
Exchanged  for  those  lone,  cheerless  evenings, 

When  noon  into  twilight  has  grown. 

Yes,  youth  has  its  charms  and  its  pleasures, 

And  manhood  its  joys  and  its  fears, 
Both  leaving  on  memory's  tablet 

The  well-written  record  of  years. 
And  while  through  life's  garden  we  ramble 

To  gather  once  more  its  bright  flowers, 
How  often  each  scene  then  reminds  us 

Of  some  of  our  happiest  hours. 

The  elm  with  its  grandeur  has  fallen, 

A  vestige  no  longer  remains  ; 
The  birds  have  all  ceased  in  its  branches 

To  sing  their  melodious  strains ; 
And  the  boys,  who  once  played  in  its  shadow 

Are  scattered  wide  over  the  earth, 
Bereft  of  those  gay,  buoyant  feelings 

Which  innocent  childhood  gave  birth. 

Although  both  the  elm  and  the  orchard 
Have  passed  long  ago  from  our  sight, 

And  the  hum  of  the  unwearied  steam-mill 
Is  heard  oft  by  day  and  by  night, 


-      THE     HOME     OF    ANGELS.  99 

Still  round  that  old  spot  there  yet  clusters 

Bright  visions  of  scenes  that  are  past, 
And  a  savor  of  freshness  and  gladness, 

Which  will  ever  in  memory  last. 


THE    HOME    OF    ANGELS. 

I  LONG  to  see  that  blessed  home,  — 

That  promised  world  of  light, 
Where  heavenly  beauties  always  new 

E'er  greet  the  wondering  sight. 
I  long  to  view  those  grottos  fair, 

Where  angel  footsteps  tread, 
Where  fadeless  flowerets  sweetly  bloom, 

And  glory  shines  o'erhead. 

Sweet  music  struck  from  golden  lyres, 

There  charms  the  listening  "ear, 
With  magic  tones,  so  soft  and  pure, 

That  seraphs  pause  to  hear ; 
While  holy  anthems  such  as  earth 

Would  joy  but  once  to  hear, 
Oft  echo  through  their  bright  domain 

In  strains  forever  dear. 

Sweet  fragrance  lingers  on  the  air,  — 

The  offering  of  flowers, 
Which  freely  bloom  with  lovelier  hues 

Than  grace  earth's  fairest  bowers ; 
While  gorgeous  shades,  which  softly  blend 

As  in  a  rainbow  fair, 
Adorn  the  precious  objects  found 

In  rich  profusion  there. 


100  SUNSHINE    AND     SHADOW.       * 

In  mansions  blest  the  angels  stay, 

Whose  walls  of  jewelled  light 
Keflect  the  glory  all  so  pure, 

That  there  is  found  no  night ; 
But  day,  eternal  day,  is  known, 

No  shadows  lingering  there ; 
No  gloomy  signs  of  grief  and  pain, 

No  vestige  of  despair. 

No  tears  can  there  in  secret  fall, 

Nor  hours  of  sadness  come 
To  desecrate,  with  silent  power, 

The  quiet  of  that  home  ; 
But  joy,  unfailing  joy,  there  reigns 

Supreme  in  every  breast, 
And  peace  with  her  sweet  influence  comes, 

And  dwells  a  constant  guest. 

There  death  can  never  loose  those  bonds, 

Which  bind  true,  faithful  hearts, 
For  from  that  blooming  paradise 

Sin  with  each  ill  departs. 
To  see  that  home  were  joy  indeed, 

So  beautiful  and  bright, 
But  there  to  live  for  evermore 

Were  infinite  delight. 


SUNSHINE    AND    SHADOW, 

IN  pleasant  sunshine,  warm  and  bright, 
Rich  blessings  come  in  golden  light, 
And  fill  the  heart  with  joy  and  peace, 
Too  pure  and  holy  soon  to  cease. 


SUNSHINE    AND     SHADOW. 

Like  flowers  scattered  o'er  our  way, 
Which  oft  invite  a  long  delay, 
They  bid  us  raise  our  thoughts  above, 
To  the  best  Source  of  purest  love. 

When  life's  young  sky  is  calm  and  fair  ; 
And  silver  clouds  lie  floating  there,  — 
When  cherished  hopes  inspire  the  breast, 
Which  knows  no  fears  nor  sad  unrest ; 
As  dew-drops  nestle  in  a  rose, 
Enjoying  there  a  sweet  repose, 
E'en  so  the  soul,  content  and  blest 
'Mid  sunny  smiles,  is  soothed  to  rest. 

What  though  a  cloud  in  flowery  June 
Should  yield  its  crystal  waters  soon, 
And  cast  a  shadow  o'er  the  sky 
Just  when  new  glories  shone  on  high  ! 
They  only  make  the  scene  more  fair, 
And  show  us  brilliants  sparkling  there, 
Which,  blending  all  in  tints  most  pure, 
But  make  "the  promise"  still  more  sure. 

When  prosperous  days  like  sunshine  bless, 
And  cheer  our  souls  with  soft  caress, 
Should  lengthening  shadows  darkly  come, 
Around  our  pleasant,  joyous  home, 
Causing  our  hearts  with  anguish  mourn, 
By  deepest  sufferings  sadly  torn  ; 
Yet  even  then  bright  stars  are  seen 
Emerging  with  their  light  serene. 

In  deep  affliction  oft  are  found 
Rare  gems  of  truth,  though  pains  abound, 
Which  only  serve  to  loose  the  soil, 
Which  else  were  broke  with  care  and  toil ; 


102  THE    HEAVENLY     COUNTRY. 

While  living  streams  of  light  and  love, 
Akin  to  the  blest  fount  above, 
Spring  forth  with  consolation  sure, 
Like  priestly  incense  choice  and  pure. 

In  solitude,  unseen,  unknown, 

How  oft  a  weary  soul  has  grown 

In  heavenly  grace,  with  patient  smile, 

Though  dews  of  grief  fell  fast  the  while. 

When  trials  oft  a  sad  heart  fill, 

The  cup  o'erflows  with  blessings  still, 

While  "ministering  spirits"  wait 

To  point  the  way  to  Zion's  gate. 

While  homeward  still  our  footsteps  tend, 
May  light  and  shade  together  blend, 
Uniting  in  one  lustrous  beam, 
In  which  God's  special  love  is  seen  ;   - 
Then  all  within  will  grow  more  fair, 
No  discontent  abiding  there ; 
Then  all  beyond  be  perfect  peace, 
Where  sorrow,  sin,  and  shadows  cease. 


THE    HEAVENLY    COUNTRY, 

THERE  is  a  better  country  where 

My  thoughts  delight  to  tend, 
Where,  saved  from  all  earth's  ills,  I  hope 

My  future  days  to  spend. 
My  pilgrimage  is  almost  o'er,  — 

I  think  I  almost  see 
The  pearly  gates  stand  open  wide, 

As  if  to  welcome  me. 


THE  HEAVENLY  COUNTRY.       103 

This  heavenly  country  saints  desired 

Who  flourished  long  ago, 
Declaring  "  plainly  "  what  they  sought, 

Amid  sad  tears  and  woe. 
As  "  strangers  "  in  a  foreign  land, 

Afar  from  friends  and  home, 
They  wished  the  "  night "  would  quickly  end,  — 

The  promised  "  morning  "  come. 

By  faith  we  view  in  that  blest  land, 

The  dread,  sad  curse  remove, 
And  all  dark  shadows  quickly  flee 

Before  the  beams  of  love  ; 
We  see  the  earth  more  beauteous  far, 

With  flowery  vales  outspread, 
And  hope  its  untold  joys  to  share, 

With  all  the  righteous  dead. 

In  that  blest  country  naught  shall  harm, 

Nor  cruel  foes  annoy, 
The  lamb  shall  with  the  leopard  play, 

The  lion  ne'er  destroy. 
A  "  little  child  "  as  safe  shall  be 

Amid  the  beasts  of  earth, 
As  when  protected  by  fond  arms 

Which  cradled  him  at  birth. 

No  blight  shall  touch  with  secret  stealth 

The  fairest  tinted  flower, 
Unequalled  beauty  then  shall  bloom, 

Nor  perish  in  an  hour. 
Sweet  fragrance  from  the  opening  bud 

Shall  bless  the  air  around. 
And  every  pleasure  heart  can  wish 

Be  in  abundance  found. 


104  THE     HEAVENLY     COUNTRY. 

No  death  —  man's  stern,  relentless  foe  - 

Shall  make  our  circles  less, 
Nor  bitter  tears  in  silence  fall, 

Because  of  deep  distress  ; 
No  pain  be  felt,  no  sorrow  known, 

Within  that  world  of  light, 
For  health  and  beauty  reign  supreme, 

To  crown  each  day's  delight. 

That  blessed  country  we  would  see, 

Where  Christ  shall  reign  as  King, 
To  him  our  highest  honors  pay,  — 

Our  dearest  offerings  bring. 
At  His  own  table  we  would  wait, 

Reclining  near  his  side, 
Where  all  who  bear  his  signet  shall 

As  welcome  guests  abide. 

We  long  to  see  those  glorious  things 

Long  treasured  up  above, 
Excelling  all  we  here  most  prize, 

Or  ever  here  can  love  ; 
Then  let  us  gaze  on  the  new  earth, 

And  stand  upon  its  shore, 
With  bodies  ever  "  glorified," 

In  peace  forevermore. 


FUTURE     GLORY.  105 


FUTURE   GLORY. 

THE  earth  may  be  shrouded  in  sadness  and  gloom, 
Like  emblems  of  mourning  which  hang  o'er  the  tomb, 
Yet  all  the  confusion  and  turmoil  so  rife, 
Most  plainly  bespeak  a  quick  end  to  its  strife. 

Soon  rulers  must  fall,  and  their  pomp  fade  away, 
Like  dew  in  the  morn  of  a  fair  summer  day, 
And  empires  crumble  to  ashes  amain, 
No  more  to  be  crowned  with  their  glory  again. 

Then  Christ's  promised  kingdom  of  joy  and  of  peace 
Shall  bring  to  his  people  their  long-sought  release,  — 
Be  -stablished  in  glory,  and  ever  maintain 
The  bliss  of  its  kingly  and  heavenly  reign. 

Oppression  and  war  shall  then  no  more  be  known, 
But  honor  and  riches  alike  will  be  shown 
To  all  who  shall  enter  the  portals  of  peace, 
When  sin  and  its  evils  forever  will  cease. 

The  troubles  of  earth  will  then  no  more  annoy, 
Nor  bondage  and  fear  shall  diminish  our  joy ; 
Each  scene  shall  afford  what  we  fondly  desire, 
And  Jesus's  great  love  all  our  praises  inspire. 

'Mid  pastures  of  pleasantness,  girded  with  streams, 
From  fountains  most  sacred,  where  glory  e'er  beams, 
Our  Shepherd  will  oft  with  his  charge  love  to  roam, 
Himself  the  delight  of  that  beautiful  home. 


106  FUTURE     GLORY. 

There  all  that  is  lovely  and  beauteous  and  fair, 
With  all  that  is  precious,  angelic,  and  rare, 
Yea,  all  that  can  cheer  and  enrapture  the  heart, 
Will  then  all  their  charms  and  their  virtues  impart. 

A  pain  nor  a  sigh  nor  a  sorrowful  tear, 

Nor  gloom,  neither  sadness  shall  ever  appear, 

To  grieve  for  a  moment  the  pure  ransomed  throng, 

Eejoicing  o'er  death  with  the  conqueror's  song. 

No  mind  can  conceive  all  that  God  will  prepare 
For  those  who  shall  freely  His  promises  share  ; 
The  bliss  which  shall  all  his  dear  children  await, 
With  naught  can  be  measured,  for  naught  is  so  great. 

Then  all  that  is  tranquil  shall  quickly  convey 
Bright  visions  of  beauty,  no  more  to  decay, 
And  all  that  is  glorious,  ecstatic,  sublime, 
Shall  wreaths  of  unspeakable  splendor  entwine. 

If  aught  can  be  wished,  then  His  love  will  provide, 
And  our  every  want  be  most  quickly  supplied, 
For  "  all  things  are  yours,"  and  all  then  shall  be  given 
To  those  who  have  sought  a  blest  mansion  in  heaven. 

A  feast  of  rejoicing,  unrivalled  before 
Shall  welcome  each  guest  with  its  bountiful  store ; 
While  Jesus  with  honors  and  gifts  of  renown, 
Himself  will  delight  all  their  pleasures  to  crown. 

The  music  of  seraphs  will  gladden  each  heart, 
Who  shall  of  their  skill  and  their  voices  impart, 
To  those  who  shall  join  in  the  heavenly  strain, 
In  praising  the  Saviour  again  and  again. 


"WE     WOULD     SEE    JESUS."  107 

The  skies  most  pellucid  will  shine  o'er  the  earth, 
With  such  beams  of  effulgence  as  never  had  birth, 
Since  angelic  anthems  through  all  heaven  rang, 
When  "  sons  of  God  shouted,  and  morning  stars  sang." 

The  earth  in  its  holy  and  purified  state 
Will  surpass  all  the  glory  that  man  can  relate ; 
Each  prospect  shall  brighten,  as  saints  shall  behold 
Its  beauties  unfading,  its  grandeur  unfold. 

If  joys  thus  ineffable  are  to  afwait, 
All  those  who  prepare  for  this  glorious  state, 
Let  those  who  may  wish  in  the  banquet  to  share, 
By  faith  and  obedience  strive  to  be  there. 


'WE    WOULD    SEE    JESUS." 

"  WE  would  see  Jesus,"  —  sweet  the  thought, 

Thus  kindled  in  our  breast ! 
This  chosen  wish  'mid  all  our  wants 

We  cherish  as  the  best ; 
That  Friend  above  all  others  prized, 

Our  Saviour,  Teacher,  Guide, 
Shall  still  remain  to  us  more  dear 

Than  all  the  world  beside. 

Our  hearts  with  heavenly  love  inspired 
,  Would  claim  an  heirship  here, 
And  faith  would  stretch  her  pinions  wide 
To  soar  to  one  so  dear  ; 


108  "WE     WOULD     SEE    JESUS." 

That  boundless  Source  of  light  and  truth 
Shall  claim  our  highest  praise, 

His  love  shall  be  our  constant  theme, 
Throughout  our  future  days. 

While  absent  from  the  strongest  tie 

Of  pure  angelic  love, 
Our  hearts  would  wish  their  joys  to  know, 

And  all  their  pleasures  prove. 
Then  would  our  bliss  be  most  complete 

To  see  Thee  face  to  face  ; 
Around  thy  throne  our  longing  souls 

Would  find  a  resting-place. 

We  wish  to  share  those  lovely  smiles 

Which  thy  disciples  knew, 
When  from  thy  lips  sweet  counsels  fell, 

When  chosen  friends  were  few. 
Thy  words,  distilling  like  the  dew, 

Would  cheer  each  fainting  mind, 
No  other  friendship  would  we  seek, 

Nor  other  pleasure  find. 

We  love  to  think  of  all  thy  deeds. 

Of  mercy  while  below  ; 
The  friendless,  poor,  and  suffering  ones 

Knew  where  their  wants  to  show  ; 
In  thee  they  found  a  pitying  friend, 

Who  made  their  burdens  light ; 
The  dumb  rejoiced,  the  sick  revived, 

The  blind  received  their  sight. 

His  love  for  all  our  sinful  race,  — 
His  sorrows  and  his  fears,  — 

His  cruel  death  and  sufferings  here,  — 
His  anguish  and  his  tears,  — 


"WE     WOULD     SEE    JESUS."  109 

All,  all  excite  our  hearts  to  love 

That  friend  we  hold  most  dear, 
Nor  shall  our  earnest  prayer  be  stilled 

Till  he  in  clouds  appear. 

Still  Jesus  lives,  though  veiled  from  sight, 

The  Christian's  bosom  friend ; 
He  knows  each  want,  and  sorrowing  tear, 

And  will  from  foes  defend. 
He  will  abide,  a  willing  guest, 

With  every  humble  heart : 
From  those  who  truly  love  his  name 

He  never  will  depart. 

As  on  the  sacred  mountain,  Lord ! 

Thy  glorious  seal  was  set, 
So  shall  thy  presence  once  more  grace 

The  brow  of  Olivet. 
The  earth,  impatient,  waits  for  thee, 

To  bear  thy  form  again ; 
Her  groaning  millions  long  to  see 

Thy  long-predicted  reign. 

To  see  this  Jesus  is  our  wish, 

Our  earnest,  constant  prayer ; 
Soon  may  we  in  his  likeness  wake,. 

A  victor's  crown  to  wear. 
Thy  little  flock  all  waiting  stand, 

To  hear  that  joyful  word  : 
"  The  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  now 

The  kingdom  of  our  Lord." 

Confiding  in  each  promise  given, 

Our  hearts  with  ardor  burn  ; 
We  soon  expect  with  joy  to  hail 

Our  blessed  Lord's  return. 
8 


110  THE     SECRET     WISH. 

Then,  then,  shall  dawn  upon  the  earth, 

Millennial  glory  bright, 
And  all  the  ransomed  shall  rejoice 

With  rapturous  delight. 


THE    SECRET    WISH. 

A  MAIDEN  sat  beside  a  stream,        u:^* 

Her  face  was  bright  and  fair, 
The  bloom  of  health  vied  with  the  flowers 

WThich  twined  her  glossy  hair. 
Free  as  its  crystal  waters  flowed, 

With  mellow  music  past, 
Her  joyous  spirits  knew  that  peace 

Which  might  not  always  last. 

The  daisies  on  the  mossy  bank 

Which  drank  the  silver  dew, 
And  nestled  in  the  shady  nook 

Where  modest  violets  grew, 
Were  not  more  happy  nor  content 

Upon  a  summer  morn  ; 
Nor  birdling's  tuneful  lay  more  sweet 

When  beauty's  smiles  were  born. 

A  cloud  passed  o'er  that  sunny  sky, 

A  shadow  o'er  the  stream,  — 
A  secret  thought  possessed  her  breast, 

Which  marred  her  happy  dream : 
"  I  wish  I  were  no  more  a  child," 

The  little  maiden  said, 
"  Nor  this  my  home,  amid  the  flowers, 

Where  fairy  footsteps  tread. 


THE     SECRET     WISH.  Ill 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  woman  fair, 

And  dwelt  in  stately  hall, 
With  hosts  of  servants  ever  near 

To  heed  my  slightest  call ; 
With  wealth  in  rich  profusion  there, 

To  give  me  constant  bliss, 
And  no  more  dwell  in  lowly  cot, 

'Mid  rural  scenes  like  this." 

The  stream  still  danced  most  gayly  on, 

And  kissed  the  pebbly  shore, 
While  lilies  marked  its  azure  track 

With  fragrance  as  before ; 
The  little  cowslip  on  the  mead 

Joined  in  the  general  strain, 
While  roses  clustered  on  the  lawn, 

And  bloomed  upon  the  plain. 

Around  the  humble  doorway  still 

The  honeysuckle  grew, 
Replete  with  fragrance,  and  as  sweet 

As  Araby  once  knew ; 
And  there,  as  partner  in  the  scene, 

Still  clung  the  trellised  vine, 
Where  luscious  fruit  as  pendants  hung, 

Inviting  warm  sunshine. 

Years  rolled  away,  no  little  feet 

Now  danced  upon  the  lawn, 
No  ringing  laugh  nor  merry  song 

Awoke  each  happy  dawn,  — 
No  little  hands  were  busy  now 

Among  the  forest  bowers, 
For  youth  with  its  pure  joys  had  fled, 

As  incense  from  the  flowers. 


112  THE     SECRET     WISH. 

Amid  the  city's  wearied  throng, 

Oppressed  with  toil  and  strife, 
Where  numerous  ills  like  dreaded  foes 

Increase  the  cares  of  life,  — 
Where  wealth  itself,  with  all  its  train, 

Cannot  true  peace  supply, 
I  saw  a  being,  proud  and  fair, 

And  thus  I  heard  her  sigh  : 

"  My  life  is  one  of  discontent, 

No  sunshine  lights  my  skies, 
Just  when  I  gain  some  promised  good 

The  pleasure  quickly  flies  ; 
My  days  are  filled  with  bitter  grief, 

My  cherished  favorites  die ; 
I  call  them  back  with  many  a  tear, 

But  hear  no  kind  reply. 

"  I  long  beside  my  native  stream 

Once  more  in  peace  to  roam, 
And  drink  anew  those  sweet  delights 

Which  graced  my  halcyon  home,  — 
I  long  to  hear  the  zephyrs  pure, 

Soft  whispering  through  the  trees, 
And  feast  upon  rich  odors  borne 

By  every  gentle  breeze. 

"  O  give  me  back  my  youthful  days, 
Those  joyous,  happy  hours, 

When  free  as  birds  upon  the  wing 
I  roamed  among  the  flowers  ; 

Youth's  rosy  goal  I  since  have  gained, 
But  found  both  care  and  pain, 

And  now  I  have  but  one  fond  wish,  — 
Would  I  were  young  again  !  " 


LINES     TO     JULIA.  113 

LINES    TO    JULIA 

ON     HER,     TWENTIETH     BIRTHDAY. 

TIME'S  swift  chariot  rolls  along, 
Crowded  with  its  varied  throng, 
Seeking  rest,  but  changing  ever ; 
Like  the  waves,  returning  never. 
Health  and  happiness  expecting,  — 
Friendship's  hand  with  scorn  rejecting,  — 
Like  the  stormy  petrel,  roving 
Far  from  those  with  warm  hearts  loving,  — 
On  the  billowy  bosom  heaving, 
Friends  and  homes  for  fortunes  leaving,  — 
Grasping  fame  by  mean  ambition, — 
Breaking  vows  without  contrition,  — 
More  than  gold  a  good  name  stealing,  — 
Direful  thoughts  fearless  revealing,  — 
Now  a  sunny  smile  imparting,  — 
Now,  most  threatening  glances  darting ; 
Now  the  clouds  have  passed  away, 
Sunshine  almost  blinds  the  day, 
As  a  few  break  forth  from  sadness, 
And  with  shouts  sing  loud  for  gladness. 

Some  for  pleasure,  some  for  gain, 

Some  seek  here  their  only  fame, 

Cherishing  some  distant  token, 

Which,  when  gained,  the  charm  seems  broken,  — 

Trusting  what  to  them  seemed  dear, 

Which  proves  false  when  seen  too  near ; 

Undeceived,  they  strive  in  vain, — 

Severed  links  to  join  again. 


114  LINES     TO     JULIA. 

Some  oppress  the  poor  and  weak  ; 
Some  the  galling  fetters  break, 
Who  with  holy  virtue  shine, 
Pouring  in  the  oil  and  wine, 
Binding  up  the  broken-hearted, 
From  whom  every  joy  has  parted, 
Prizing  bonds  now  broken  ever. 
Which  bind  loving  hearts  together. 

Some  in  darkness  sadly  pine, 
Where  in  pain  long  days  decline, 
Ebbing  out  the  sands  of  life ; 
Few,  but  wasting  in  the  strife  ; 
Seeking  light  where  peace  is  given, 
From  o'erflowing  founts  in  heaven. 

Some  in  sorrow,  silent  mourn, 
With  kind  hearts  in  anguish  torn, 
Waiting,  in  a  lingering  death, 
Poisoned  deep  by  slander's  breath,  - 
Some  are  sad,  and  some  are  blest, 
But  all  seek  a  future  rest. 

Time's  swift  chariot  on  will  roll, 
Hasting  toward  its  distant  goal ; 
Casting  up  the  golden  sands, 
Numbered  by  unerring  hands, 
On  the  dial-plate  of  life ; 
Shaded  off  by  pain  and  strife, 
Pointing  out  another  year, 
Which  "  in  teens  "  will  not  appear. 

Life  in  earnest  now  will  meet  thee, 
Duty's  voice  will  ever  greet  thee, 
Angel's  hands  will  safe  protect  thee, 
Chosen  friends  will  not  forget  thee, 


LINES     TO     JULIA.  115 

Loving  hearts  shall  prize  thee  ever, 
Chilling  words  shall  crush  thee,  never, 
While  pure  thoughts  most  bounteous  given, 
Float  to  thee  serene  from  Heaven. 

Gird  thy  mantle  firm  around  thee, 
Woman's  years  at  length  have  found  thee ; 
Prove  thy  strength,  whate'er  thy  calling, 
In  the  right  no  ill  befalling. 
Those  wh6  strive,  the  mastery  gaining, 
Martyrs  are  without  complaining. 
Reach  the  goal,  the  prize  retaining, 
Every  evil  thought  restraining  ; 
Laurel-wreaths  shall  then  adorn  thee, 
Twined  with  roses,  who  shall  scorn  thee ; 
Unassuming  as  pet  daisies, 
Justly  said  shall  be  thy  praises. 

Now  a  year  to  thee  is  born, 
Blushing  as  the  rosy  morn, 
Breathing  fragrance  in  each  gale, 
Freely  through  each  flowery  vale  ; 
Let  your  hopes  be  born  anew, 
Every  good  with  zeal  pursue  ; 
Kindness,  like  sweet  odors,  showing, 
Deeds  of  love  on  all  bestowing, 
Blest  words  to  the  troubled  telling, 
Dread  forebodings  quick  dispelling, 
Bringing  sunshine  where  was  sadness, 
Threatening  clouds  soon  change  to  gladness. 

Purest  dew-drops  on  the  mead, 
Let  your  inmost  thoughts  exceed, 
Words  of  wisdom  glad  distilling, 
Every  heart  with  pleasure  filling. 


SYMPATHY. 

And  let  faith  and  love  increase, 

To  enhance  your  constant  peace, 

Telling  on  life's  future  story, 

As  you  haste  toward  heaven  and  glory. 

Falter  not,  and  weary  never  ! 
Victory  crowning  each  endeavor, 
Journeying  toward  the  gates  of  peace, 
There  to  find  a  sweet  release 
From  earth's  pain  and  toil  and  strife, 
Joying  in  eternal  life. 


SYMPATHY. 

How  sweetly  words  of  sympathy 

Fall  on  the  sufferer's  ear, 
Like  silvery  music  heard  at  night, 

On  zephyrs  floating  near ; 
They  gently  calm  the  troubled  breast, 

And  bid  its  tumult  cease ; 
They  wake  responsive  strains  most  dear, 

Which  ever  whisper,  Peace. 

True  sympathy,  like  precious  balm, 

Dispels  the  sorrowing  tear, 
And  bids  the  clouds  of  sadness  flee, 

With  all  their  shadows  drear ; 
It  brings  warm  sunshine  to  the  heart, 

Oppressed  with  bitter  woes, 
And  soothes  the  troubled  waters  fast 

To  sweet  and  calm  repose. 


BLIND    ORLEENA'S   SOLILOQUY.        117 

It  drives  the  cares  of  life  away, 

Or  makes  their  burden  less, 
And  brings  to  weary  pilgrims  oft, 

Some  gleams  of  happiness. 
Amid  the  hours  of  pain  and  gloom 

'T  is  like  a  star  of  night, 
Which  glistens  in  the  dome  above, 

To  make  the  darkness  light. 

I  treasure  up  each  kindly  word 

Or  action  ever  done, 
As  pictures  bright  to  look  upon 

When  loving  friends  have  gone ; 
And  gratefully  within  my  breast 

Shall  fondest  memories  dwell, 
Concerning  those  whose  deeds  have  proved 

Their  generous  feelings  well. 

While  in  these  thorny  paths  I  stay 

While  travelling  to  my  home, 
I  pray  that  I  may  often  hear 

An  angel  footstep  come 
With  words  of  cheer  to  soon  beguile 

A  weary  hour  of  pain, 
And  bid  my  drooping  spirits  rise, 

And  joy  in  hope  again. 


BLIND    ORLEENA'S    SOLILOQUY, 

O  WHERE  are  the  days  of  my  childhood,  so  bright  ? 
When  innocence  sported  with  earnest  delight,  — 
When  pleasure  unwearied,  with  bountiful  hand, 
Directed  my  steps,  at  the  gentlest  command, 


118        BLIND    ORLEENA'S   SOLILOQUY. 

To  scenes  of  enjoyment,  e'er  constant  and  free 

As  the  winds,  which  then  fanned  me,  were  welcome  to  be. 

How  often  I  wandered  in  youth's  rosy  morn, 

Where  flowers  rejoiced  that  fresh  beauty  was  born,  — 

To  the  spring  in  the  meadow,  —  the  old  apple-tree, 

With  its  fairy-like  seat  in  its  trunk,  made  for  me, 

Where  through  each  sunny  day  composed  I  would  sit, 

As  the  hours  flew  by,  and  most  steadily  knit, 

Fulfilling  my  task  for  my  grandmother's  praise, 

Who  told  me  that  those  were  life's  happiest  days, 

Which  I  scarce  could  believe,  as  I  looked  farther  on 

For  the  prize  to  be  sought,  for  the  goal  to  be  won, 

Not  thinking  that  others  much  older  than  I 

Could  best  foresee  clouds  which  darken  life's  sky. 

How  often  I  roamed  with  my  basket  of  toys, 
Exciting  the  wonder  of  merry,  rude  boys, 
To  the  well-chosen  spot,  the  old  school-house  near  by, 
Where  hours  of  pleasure  seemed  quickly  to  fly,  — 
To  the  high  granite  rock,  by  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
Where  unrivalled  our  famous  old  cherry-tree  stood, 
The  pride  of  my  mates,  who  attended  the  school, 
Each  claiming  its  clusters  each  season  by  rule ; 
The  truth-telling  stains  round  their  rosy-red  cheeks 
Soon  declared  how  they  longed  for  the  harvesting  weeks. 

I  think  with  delight  of  that  silvery  rill, 
Whose  music  so  sweet  haunts  my  memory  still, 
For  oft  on  its  green,  mossy  banks  I  would  stay, 
And  watch  its  bright  wavelets  dance  swiftly  away ; 
Oft  launching  for  vessels  some  fair,  tiny  flowers,  — 
A  feast  to  rny  eyes  in  those  joyous  young  hours ; 
How  eager  I  watched  as  they  swiftly  sailed  by, 
Their  petals  for  sails  pointing  up  to  the  sky, 
Not  thinking  thus  swiftly  our  fond  hopes  decay,  — 
Though  charming  our  prospects,  they  soon  fade  away, 


BLIND   ORLEENA'S   SOLILOQUY.        119 

And  leave  us  expecting  some  bright  scene  to  cheer, 
More  happy  than  those  which  now  we  find  dear. 

Then  earth  e'er  looked  gay,  with  its  sunshine  and  flowers, 
Which  led  me  to  value  its  bright  rosy  hours 
As  so  many  gifts  from  their  Author  divine, 
Created  for  gladness,  and  numbered  as  mine ; 
Reflecting  rare  joys,  which  I  thought  ne'er  would  die, 
For  no  cloud  of  sorrow  then  darkened  my  sky. 

Those  days  have  now  passed,  with  their  gladness  and  mirth, 

So  bright  at  their  dawning,  so  pure  at  their  birth ; 

The  grass  in  the  meadow  grows  green  as  of  yore, 

And  its  strawberries  are  tempting  as  ever  before. 

But  the  scene  has  been  changed,  strange  footsteps  are  found 

To  wander  in  peace  o'er  that  once  happy  ground  ; 

The  old  apple-tree,  with  its  fair  blushing  pride, 

Still  yields  its  rare  fruit,  with  new  friends  by  its  side,  — 

Which  often  so  tempted  some  playmates  of  old, 

That  their  burden  was  more  than  their  pockets  could  hold. 

The  green  shady  nook  by  the  orchard's  high  wall, 
Where  seasons  of  merriment  oft  I  recall, 
The  homely  made  cot  'neath  the  great  willow-tree, 
Where  hours  passed  happy  as  happy  could  be, 
And  the  mound  in  the  pasture,  where  sister  and  I 
Oft  wandered  for  buttercups  'neath  a  June  sky, 
Still  live  in  fond  memory  as  things  of  the  past, 
Lent  only  for  childhood,  no  longer  to  last. 

Those  long-cherished  spots  I  shall  ne'er  see  again, 
Their  charms,  once  so  pleasing,  no  longer  remain, 
Deep  shadows  now  linger  along  that  glad  way, 
While  temptations  encompass  my  footsteps  each  day ; 
Now,  other  kind  fingers  train  up  my  pet  flowers, 
And  give  them  their  portion  of  sunshine  and  showers ; 


120       BLIND   ORLEENA'S   SOLILOQUY. 

My  little  bird  sings,  as  if  mocking  my  tears, 

And  strangers  afford  no  relief  to  my  fears, 

While  I  in  my  loneliness  beg  by  the  way, 

Oft  marking  with  sadness  the  long  weary  day, 

Though  fair  happy  children  are  passing  along, 

Their  hearts  filled  with  mirth,  and  their  voices  with  song  ; 

No  beautiful  thing  can  e'er  gladden  my  sight, 
Now  darkened  forever  with  curtains  of  night, 
The  autumn's  rich  tints  can  delight  me  no  more, 
Nor  roses  for  me  bloom  so  fair  as  before ; 
In  earliest  spring  the  bright  violets  come, 
No  longer  to  smile  on  my  loved  cottage  home ; 
On  memory's  page  live  the  scenes  of  the  past, 
Earth's  flowers  are  crushed,  but  their  odors  still  last. 

I  think  of  my  friends,  those  dear  friends  of  my  youth, 

Who  taught  me  rare  lessons  of  wisdom  and  truth, 

Each  sweet  happy  face  I  no  more  shall  behold ; 

Already  my  father  and  mother  are  old, 

My  brothers  and  sisters  have  all  passed  away, 

And  grief  is  my  portion,  by  night  and  by  day ; 

Now  pensive  each  day  I  am  left  quite  alone, 

My  prospects  all  blighted,  my  spirits  quite  gone. 

I  long  for  some  friend  who  can  cheer  me  again, 

To  comfort  in  sorrow,  to  solace  my  pain ; 

I  wish  to  find  some  one  with  whom  I  can  dwell, 

Whose  glad,  merry  voice  can  my  sadness  dispel, 

Whose  kind  hand  will  lead  me  where  bright  flowers  grow, 

And  near  crystal  streams  which  with  music  e'er  flow, 

To  tell  me  of  beauties  which  I  cannot  see, 

Thus  kindly  bestowing  compassion  on  me. 

I  think  of  the  stars,  with  their  beautiful  light, 

Which  twinkle  in  vain  through  my  long  gloomy  night, 

At  least  for  my  joy  they  have  lost  all  their  light, 

Which  like  gems  used  to  shine,  all  so  beauteous  and  bright ; 


THE     SHINING    LIGHT.  121 

I  think  of  the  meads  as  they  sparkle  with  dew,  — 

Of  the  birds  of  the  grove,  with  their  rich,  varied  hue,  — 

Of  those  rare,  gorgeous  shades,  with  their  unequalled  dye, 

In  the  bright  bow  of  promise,  which  spans  the  blue  sky ; 

I  think  of  those  sunsets  of  crimson  and  gold, 

Which  fading  away,  softer  beauties  unfold, 

But  all  are  now  hid  with  their  glories  from  me, 

I  mourn  in  my  blindness,  O  when  shall  I  see  ! 

In  the  blest  world  to  come  no  thick  darkness  is  known, 

No  lamb  of  the  flock  left  to  wander  alone,  — 

No  evils  to  cast  a  dread  shadow  around, 

O'er  the  bright  happy  scenes  of  that  enchanted  ground ; 

Immortal,  angelic,  from  bondage  made  free, 

The  glories  of  heaven  I  ever  shall  see. 

Then  let  me,  contented,  in  darkness  remain, 
And  patiently  bear  with  my  sorrows  and  pain, 
And  trust  to  the  hand  that  hath  blinded  mine  eyes, 
To  show  me  far  brighter,  far  happier  skies,  — 
To  lift  high  the  veil,  which  no  eye  can  behold, 
Where  wonders  transcendent  new  beauties  unfold ; 
Then  hoping,  confiding,  I  calmly  will  wait, 
Till  my  burden  is  lost  at  the  bright  pearly  gate. 


THE    SHINING    LIGHT. 


PILGRIM  on  thy  heavenly  journey, 
Though  bright  scenes  invite  delay, 

ket  not  grievous  trials  turn  thee 
From  the  straight  and  narrow  way ; 


122  THE     SHINING     LIGHT. 

Look  above  the  clouds  that  gather 

Like  a  curtain  dark  as  night, 
Let  the  golden  sunshine  rather 

Cheer  thee  with  its  welcome  light- 
Let  the  glory  ever  shining 

From  the  throne  e'er  guide  thy  way, 
All  thy  weary  steps  inclining 

Toward  the  realms  of  perfect  day. 
Let  thy  thoughts  be  e'er  ascending 

Where  thy  treasure  rests  on  high, 
Gloomy  clouds  in  triumph  rending 

By  thy  faith  which  cleaves  the  sky. 

Let  the  day-spring  breathing  o'er  thee 

With  its  radiant  beams  of  light, 
Keep  this  precious  thought  before  thee,  - 

With  God's  favor  all  is  bright; 
Grief  may  cast  its  mantle  o'er  us, 

And  dark  shadows  dim  our  way, 
But  the  shining  light  before  us 

Soon  shall  chase  all  gloom  away. 

May  its  blissful  presence  guide  thee, 

Though  the  fruits  of  error  lie 
With  their  tempting  sweets  beside  thee, 

To  thy  blessed  home  on  high. 
Let  the  storm  then  wildly  press  us, 

And  dark  billows  round  us  roar,  — 
Naught  can  ever  long  distress  us, 

While  we  seek  the  heavenly  shore. 

Truth  is  mighty,  and  prevaileth, 
Like  the  brilliant  sun  at  noon, 

Over  unbelief,  which  raileth 
In  vain  strife,  to  perish  soon. 


THE     DEATH     OF     THE     RIGHTEOUS.        123 

May  this  holy  light  beam  o'er  us 

Like  the  smiles  of  God's  dear  love, 
Charming  all  life's  way  before  us, 

Till  we  reach  its  fount  above. 


THE    DEATH   OF    THE    RIGHTEOUS, 

LET  me  die  e'en  like  the  righteous,  — 

Strong  in  faith  and  full  of  hope ; 
On  God's  mighty  arm  relying, 

Confidently  looking  up. 
Let  me  leave  this  dreary  valley, 

And  with  angel  pinions  soar 
To  the  realms  of  fadeless  beauty, 

Where  afflictions  come  no  more. 

Journeying  toward  the  promised  haven, 

Where  pure  happiness  is  known, 
May  I  find  a  Father's  welcome, 

Like  a  child  returning  home. 
As  the  twilight  fades  so  quickly, 

When  the  rosy  morn  appears, 
May  the  glory  of  his  presence 

Soon  dispel  all  lingering  fears. 

Let  me  leave  this  world  of  sadness, 

Where  are  known  the  ways  of  strife, 
And  with  true,  unending  gladness 

Enter  on  that  glorious  life ; 
Where  long  years  of  pain  and  sorrow 

Shall  be  changed  to  those  of  bliss, 
Where  no  dreaded,  sad  to-morrow 

Shrouds  our  hopes  as  oft  in  this. 


124        THE     DEATH     OF     THE     RIGHTEOUS, 

Let  me  prize  each  word  so  heavenly, 

Which  the  gracious  Saviour  spoke  ; 
Dearer  than  the  praises  uttered 

When  the  box  of  ointment  broke. 
As  rare  jewels  may  I  cherish 

Each  blest  promise  made  for  me, 
Then  my  heart  can  sing  for  gladness 

While  my  faith  is  strong  in  thee. 

Let  me  hear  the  final  summons 

For  my  spirit's  glad  release ; 
On  my  ear  most  sweetly  falling, 

As  from  angels  whispering  peace. 
In  thy  presence  let  me  hide  me 

'Neath  the  shadow  'of  thy  wing, 
Where,  through  grace  and  faith  beside  me, 

All  my  friends  in  triumph  bring. 

Let  me  view  the  better  country, 

With  its  hills  and  vales  outspread, 
And  amid  its  glories  triumph, 

Quickened  from  the  slumbering  dead. 
Let  me  hear  the  blessed  anthems 

Which  the  holy  angels  sing, 
Sweetly  echoed  by  the  ransomed, 

Who  their  highest  praises  bring. 

Then,  with  loved  ones  gone  before  us, 

Saved  from  death  and  woe  and  sin, 
We,  with  God's  own  hand  stretched  o'er  us, 

To  his  joy  shall  enter  in. 
Then  our  bliss  shall  be  made  perfect, 

Throughout  ages  ever  blest ; 
And  eternal  glory  crown  us 

Where  the  righteous  find  their  rest. 


MY    HOME    IS    IN    HEAVEN.  125 


MY    HOME    IS    IN    HEAVEN. 

MY  home  is  in  heaven,  —  I  care  not  to  stay 
Where  all  things  around  me  are  doomed  to  decay ; 
I  look  for  a  mansion  most  safe  and  secure, 
Whose  foundations  are  holy,  and  long  to  endure. 

My  home  is  in  heaven,  —  I  would  not  delay 
Where  earth's  sweetest  flowers  but  live  for  a  day  ; 
Though  we  find  a  bright  oasis,  lingering  here, 
It  is  but  to  be  left,  with  a  sigh  and  a  tear. 

Though  the  pleasures  of  earth  may  charm  for  a  while, 
And  oft  a  sad  heart  with  their  secrets  beguile : 
Like  the  choicest  of  perfume  they  soon  pass  away, 
Thus  showing  how  fleeting  and  transient  their  stay. 

Here  health  may  forsake  me,  and  trials  annoy, 
Like  clouds  they  oft  darken  my  sunshine  of  joy  ; 
Yet  sweet  is  that  hope,  a  rare  solace  in  pain, 
"  If  ye  suffer,  so  likewise  with  me  ye  shall  reign." 

My  home  is  in  heaven,  — there,  bright  like  a  star 
The  prize  glistens  proudly  through  shades  not  afar ; 
Afflictions,  like  clouds,  may  indeed  veil  the  sky, 
But  brighter  the  day  when  the  night  has  passed  by. 

My  home  is  in  heaven,  — there,  free  from  alloy, 
Await  me  rare  treasures  of  unfailing  joy, 
More  precious  indeed  than  all  earth's  diadems,  — 
Yea,  not  to  be  measured  by  gold  or  by  gems. 

I  long  for  that  country,  where  skies  are  all  fair, 
Where  all  things  most  lovely  we  freely  may  share, 
9 


126  MY    HOME     IS     IN    HEAVEN. 

Where  streams  of  pure  crystal  flow  sweetly  along 
From  life-giving  fountains  most  joyful  with  song. 

There  beauty  is  fadeless  among  the  green  bowers, 
And  breezes  are  soft  with  the  breath  of  sweet  flowers ; 
There  rich  tones  of  melody  fall  on  the  ear, 
Which  angels  themselves  pause  delighted  to  hear. 

Then  earth  will  be  beautiful,  richly  arrayed 
In  robes  far  more  gorgeous  than  Eden  displayed  ; 
Each  prospect  shall  smile  with  its  rare  wonders  crowned, 
And  dew-drops  shall  glisten  like  diamonds  around. 

I  long  for  that  region  of  unfailing  bliss, 

Where  all  shall  be  perfect,  so  unlike  to  this ; 

Where  holiness,  like  a  rare  jewel  divine, 

In  a  breastplate  of  love  most  conspicuous  will  shine. 

That  city,  so  glorious,  I  long  to  behold  ; 
So  garnished  with  rubies,  with  sapphires  and  gold  ; 
Whose  light  is  the  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the  throne, 
Whose  glory  all  nations  with  wonder  shall  own. 

No  tears  shall  be  there,  nor  shall  darkness  prevail, 
Nor  troubles  be  known,  nor  temptations  assail, 
For  Jesus  shall  circle  his  flock  with  his  arm, 
Forever  to  shield  them  from  danger  and  harm. 

There,  friends  once  united,  will  never  again 

Be  called  to  endure  bitter  partings  with  pain, 

But  made  like  the  angels  immortal  and  pure, 

Their  peace  shall  be  sweet,  by  love's  signet  made  sure. 

I  long  for  that  country ;  O  soon  may  I  share 

That  home  where  can  come  no  pain,  sorrow,  nor  care  ! 

There  soon,  by  my  Saviour  eternally  blest, 

May  I  find  with  his  flock  that  most  glorious  rest. 


STANZAS.  127 


STANZAS, 


FROM  pleasant  home,  and  loving  friends, 

The  sea-boy  roamed  afar, 
Nor  feared  the  ocean's  dashing  foam, 

Before  old  Neptune's  car. 
With  manly  heart,  at  duty's  call, 

He  sought  a  distant  strand, 
Then  longed  once  more  in  peace  to  see 

His  own  dear  native  land. 

With  sunny  skies  all  bright  above, 

With  prosperous  breezes  fair, 
With  "  ready  will "  he  labored  hard, 

Impatient  to  be  there ; 
For  well  he  knew  a  secret  foe 

Would  cause  both  grief  and  pain, 
If  it  should  prove  victorious  then, 

When  tossed  upon  the  main. 

The  gallant  ship  bore  proudly  on, 

With  snowy  sails  outspread, 
Till  soon  was  heard  the  welcome  word,  — 

The  promised  "  land  ahead." 
Nearer  and  nearer  still  they  drew, 

Till  glistening  spires  were  seen, 
While  far  beyond  appeared  in  pride, 

Fair  landscapes  clothed  in  green. 

But  no  kind  voice  salutes  his  ear, 
No  friend  the  stranger  knows  ; 

His  native  place  is  far  away, 
From  where  the  palm-tree  grows ; 


128  STANZAS. 

Weary  and  sick  he  seeks  his  couch, 

And  pines  in  secret  grief; 
He  turns  his  thoughts  toward  his  loved  home, 

And  sighs  for  sweet  relief. 

There  loving  friends  might  e'er  be  found 

To  soothe  each  bitter  pain, 
And  friendship's  kindly  voice  be  heard 

In  accents  not  in  vain. 
Such  comforts  as  "  sweet  home  "  affords 

Would  lend  their  constant  aid, 
To  give  the  lone  one  needed  cheer, 

Or  bid  his  grief  be  stayed. 

Did  they  but  know  the  sufferer's  lot, 

How  gladly  by  his  side 
Would  three  dear,  loving  sisters  wait, 

While  ebbed  life's  feeble  tide ; 
How  would  a  parent's  love,  with  care, 

Support  the  aching  head, 
And  words  of  consolation  breathe, 

Till  life's  last  hope  had  fled. 

But  dearer,  yet  more  distant  too, 

Earth's  loveliest  spot  now  seems, 
As  wakes  the  troubled  patient  oft 

From  tantalizing  dreams. 
And  faintly  and  more  dimly  too 

The  lamp  of  life  must  burn, 
Till  son  and  brother  can  no  more 

To  cherished  friends  return. 
***** 

His  race  is  run,  —  in  south-land  fair 

His  lowly  bed  is  found, 
Where  perfumed  blossoms  gently  fall 

Like  tears  his  grave  around. 


ON    A     WHITE     ROSE.  129 

No  loving  friends  are  near  to  weep, 

Or  plant  bright  flowers  there ; 
But  birdlings  chant  a  requiem  sweet, 

Who  know  no  grief  nor  care. 

He  sleeps  in  peace ;  yes,  sweetly  sleeps, 

His  wanderings  all  are  o'er ; 
With  him  the  storms  of  life  are  past,  — 

He  sought  the  heavenly  shore. 
There  in  that  "  better  country  "  far, 

Where  troubles  ne'er  can  come, 
He  finds  the  promised  haven  blest,  — 

A  blissful,  glorious  home. 

Then,  mourning  friends,  from  tears  refrain, 

The  lost  may  yet  be  found, 
For  far  beyond  earth's  changing  scenes 

Is  known  enchanted  ground. 
There  friends  will  meet  with  friends  most  dear, 

Sad  partings  all  be  o'er, 
And  love's  sweet  bonds  be  joined  again, 

Dissevered  nevermore. 


ON    A   WHITE    ROSE. 

ROSE,  upon  thy  fragile  stem, 

White  e'en  like  the  fleecy  snow, 
Crystal  fount  nor  sparkling  gem 

Cannot  such  sweet  fragrance  show. 
And  we  prize  thee,  spotless,  pure, 

Like  a  pet  we  give  thee  place, 
Though  thou  may'st  not  long  endure, 

Yet  may  we  a  lesson  trace. 


130  ON    A     WHITE     ROSE. 

Innocence  and  beauty  blend 

In  thy  soft  and  velvet  dress, 
While  thy  blushes  likewise  tend 

To  increase  thy  loveliness. 
Modest  grace  here  too  we  see, 

Couched  beneath  thy  emerald  bed  ; 
Till  the  mild  wind  kisses  thee, 

Hidest  thou  thy  white-crowned  head. 

So  true  merit  often  lies 

Close  concealed  in  modest  dress, 
And  the  world's  gay  pomp  denies,  — 

Choosing  with  kind  deeds  to  bless. 
Like  sweet  incense  kind  distilling 

Healthful  balm  on  all  around, 
Every  heart  most  gladly  filling 

With  such  peace  as  may  abound. 

When  the  winds  arise,  exciting, 

Stirring  all  the  trembling  leaves, 
Quickly  to  the  call  replying, 

She  her  sweet  concealment  leaves. 
Then  her  worth  is  soon  discovered, 

And  her  fame  is  known  to  all ; 
Praises  then,  as  wreaths  all  fadeless, 

On  her  head  like  blessings  fall. 

Roses  droop  and  fade  and  wither, 

And  their  tender  petals  fall ; 
Grief  the  sunniest  sky  o'ershadows, 

When  loved  friends  obey  the  call ; 
Bidding  them  put  off  their  blooming, 

When  their  vigor  fades  so  fast, 
And  the  tomb,  so  sad  and  lonely, 

Holds  the  treasure  firm  at  last. 


TO     ISABEL. 

But  dear  friends,  unlike  the  flowers, 

With  celestial  beauty  blest, 
Shall,  when  sounds  the  heavenly  signal, 

Break  their  cold  and  silent  rest. 
They  shall  come,  made  like  the  angels, 

From  all  lands,  afar  and  near, 
To  the  home  of  many  mansions 

Which  we  hold  in  hope  so  dear. 


TO    ISABEL. 

TIME  is  flitting  fast  away, 
And  must  close  life's  changeful  day ; 
Morning  clouds,  all  tinged  with  red, 
Too  must  find  their  curtained  bed, 
Soft  reposing,  quiet  sleeping, 
With  the  dews  their  children  weeping 
Crystal  tears  fast  at  the  parting, 
Fading  sunlight  faintly  darting. 

Pleasures  here  may  bloom  awhile, 
And  our  saddest  thoughts  beguile, 
Yielding  up  their  treasures  rare 
To  delight  life's  morning  air, 
But  their  petals  soon  must  die, 
Bequeathing  us  a  perfumed  sigh. 

Stars  may  sparkle  bright  on  high, 
Gemming  all  the  midnight  sky, 
Soothing  thoughts  all  quiet  bringing, 
Unknown  vespers  silent  hymning, 
Yet  must  fail  their  gentle  ray 
Quickly  at  the  rising  day,  — 


131 


132  TO    ISABEL. 

So  earth's  scenes  may  brightly  glare, 
Tempting  with  their  winning  air, 
'Mid  the  gloom  their  light  revealing, 
Purer  treasures  often  stealing, 
Showing  oft  their  secret  power 
False,  when  comes  life's  evening  hour, 
Causing  oft  the  midnight  tear, 
Secret  falling,  none  to  hear, 
Perishing  like  stars  of  night 
Soon  before  a  holier  light. 

All  is  changing  here  below, 
Earth's  delights,  —  a  fleeting  show,  — 
Flowers  bloom  to  droop  and  fade, 
On  green  lawn,  in  valley's  shade. 
Winds  a  mournful  requiem  sing, 
Bursting  clouds  their  tribute  bring. 
Beauty  reigns,  too  soon  it  dies, 
Though  passing  sweet  its  mysteries. 
Friends  are  found,  who  love  and  bless, 
Death  soon  makes  the  number  less ; 
All  is  changing  like  the  sea, 
Pleasures  come,  as  quickly  flee, 
Perishing,  to  stay  no  more 
Than  the  bubbles  on  the  shore. 

May  your  hopes  be  ever  found 
Where  true  peace  and  rest  abound, 
Built  upon  the  "  corner-stone," 
Laid  in  Christ,  the  Holy  One, 
Grace  and  glory  then  shall  be 
Hidden  treasures,  kept  for  thee, 
Joys  that  naught  like  earth  can  give 
Shall  in  constant  fulness  live, 
Like  a  streamlet  passing  by, 
While  the  fount  is  full  on  high  ; 


TO     ISABEL.  133 

Life  eternal  e'er  bestowing, 

From  the  throne  most  freely  flowing. 

Virtue  like  a  diamond  fair, 

Set  with  brilliants  pure  and  rare, 

Shall  reflect  thy  honors  wide, 

Blessing  all,  on  every  side, 

Pointing  on  toward  life  and  light, 

Like  a  guiding  star  by  night, 

Leading  through  earth's  gloom  and  woe 

To  those  joys  not  found  below. 

Seek  thy  rest,  where  rest  is  given, 
At  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven, 
Where  the  walls  of  jewelled  light, 
And  the  golden  pavement  bright 
Beckon  thee  to  blest  repose, 
To  that  bliss  the  seraph  knows. 
Angels  at  the  portals  standing, 
With  a  crown  to  greet  thy  landing, 
From  life's  sea-tossed,  quivering  bark, 
Plunging  through  the  waters  dark. 

There  sad  changes  all  are  o'er, 

Beauty  lives  to  die  no  more, 

Flowers  bloom  in  brighter  dress, 

Glorious  with  their  loveliness, 

Friendship's  bonds  no  grief  will  sever,  — 

Pain  and  tears  be  lost  forever,  — 

Rich  perfumes  shall  fill  the  air, 

Health  imparting  everywhere,  — 

Music  linger  on  the  ear, 

In  such  notes  as  angels  hear, 

Glory  from  the  throne  above 

Filling  all  with  peace  and  love ; 

All  are  happy,  all  are  blest,  — 

May  this  be  your  chosen  rest. 


134  CONTENTMENT. 


CONTENTMENT,  OR  THE  BLEST  JEWEL. 

I  ASKED  a  young  man  blest  with  health, 

Whose  star  of  life  was  bright, 
To  whom  all  future  prospects  seemed 

To  dance  in  golden  light, 
If  he  this  jewel  kept  concealed 

Within  his  hopeful  breast,  — 
If  at  this  stage  he  soon  should  pause, 

His  soul  would  find  sweet  rest  ? 

Ah,  no !  he  said ;  the  goal  beyond 

Invites  my  hastening  feet : 
Distinguished  honors  wait  me  there,  — 

Life's  warfare  I  must  meet. 
I  long  to  see  the  golden  light 

Encircling  my  fair  name, 
And  read  on  tablets  deep  engraved 

The  mention  of  my  fame. 

I  asked  a  rich  man,  blest  with  wealth, 

And  all  things  good  and  fair, 
To  whom  the  skies  looked  bright  above, 

No  shadows  lingering  there ; 
If,  blest  with  wealth,  he  there  would  wait, 

While  Time's  swift  car  rolled  on, 
And  be  contented  with  his  lot 

Till  life's  brief  sands  were  run.  . 

Ah,  no !  he  said ;  though  pleasures  lie 

Within  my  grasp  each  day, 
The  wheel  of  fortune  quick  may  turn 

And  sweep  my  all  away  5 


CONTENTMENT.  135 

A  "  little  more  "  I  must  obtain 

Against  an  evil  hour, 
And  then  secure  will  I  repose, 

Nor  fear  the  tyrant's  power. 

I  asked  a  poor  man,  struggling  hard 

To  breast  the  storms  of  life, 
Whose  surging  billows  almost  hide 

Him  'neath  their  angry  strife ; 
If  he  had  found  that  goodly  tree, 

Whose  precious  fruit  so  fair, 
If  tasted  would  all  joy  afford, 

And  peaceful  offerings  bear. 

Ah,  no !  he  said  ;  the  rich  have  wealth,  — 

With  ease  it  can  provide,  — 
While  I  toil  on  with  grief  opprest 

From  morn  till  eventide. 
And  when  the  shadows  gather  fast, 

My  wasting  strength  quite  spent, 
I  lay  me  down  'mid  tears  and  pain,  — 

No !  I  am  not  content. 

I  asked  the  Christian,  who  is  found 

Among  the  poor  and  great, 
Oft  clothed  in  garments  coarse  and  worn, 

Sometimes  in  robes  of  state, 
If  he  had  found  the  jewel  bright, 

More  prized  than  rubies  rare, 
Which  would,  as  a  pure  treasure  kept, 

Yield  comfort  everywhere. 

O  yes !  he  said,  while  radiant  smiles 

Illumed  his  happy  face ; 
That  priceless  gem  has  long  been  mine, 

The  gift  of  sovereign  grace ; 


136  PEACE,    BE     STILL  ! 

Because  at  peace  within,  my  heart 

Invites  no  anxious  care, 
But  sweet  content  her  offering  brings, 

And  makes  her  dwelling  there. 


PEACE,    BE    STILL! 

WHEN  o'er  life's  sky  a  curtain  deep 

Close  hides  the  genial  light, 
Which  ever  shines  dark  clouds  above, 

With  rays  most  pure  and  bright ; 
When  sorrows  crowd  around  our  way, 

And  tears  our  chalice  fill, 
Then  gladly  hears  the  burdened  soul 

The  accents,  —  "  Peace,  be  still ! " 

When  love's  sweet  bonds  are  severed  wide, 

And  cherished  friends  depart, 
Who,  though  so  pure  and  spotless  here, 

Might  not  escape  death's  dart ; 
When  poignant  grief  or  dull  despair 

Their  bitter  dews  distil, 
Then  softly  as  sweet  music  comes 

The  gentle,  —  "  Peace,  be  stiH  !  " 

Like  balm  from  Gilead  freely  sent, 

Or  fruits  from  Eschol's  vine, 
They  bid  our  drooping  spirits  rise, 

And  cause  the  face  to  shine ; 
While  living  streams  forever  flow, 

Free  as  the  mountain  rill ; 
Then  in  most  soothing  tones  we  hear 

The  accents,  —  "  Peafce,  be  still ! " 


ON    THE    DEATH     OF    MRS.   J.    U.   L.          137 

May  He  who  rules  the  raging  storm, 

Who  bids  the  billows  sleep, 
Uphold  us  with  his  outstretched  hand, 

And  ever  near  us  keep. 
How  would  our  hearts  within  us  burn, 

And  joy  our  bosoms  fill, 
Could  we  above  life's  tempests  hear 

His  holy,  —  "  Peace,  be  still !  " 


ON   THE   DEATH   OF   MRS.   J.   U.   L, 

As  autumn  leaflets  quiet  fall 

To  kiss  their  mother  earth, 
Obedient  to  the  general  call, 

As  when  they  first  had  birth,  — 
So  gently  did  the  summons  come 

To  call  our  friend  away, 
To  dwell  forever  in  that  home 

Where  angels  love  to  stay. 

Too  pure  to  longer  here  remain 

To  mingle  in  earth's  strife, 
Where  grief  and  tears  and  toil  and  pain 

Are  portions  in  this  life, 
Her  gentle  spirit,  like  a  bird 

Held  captive  in  the  hand, 
The  message  for  its  freedom  heard, 

And  sought  its  native  land. 

Beyond  the  scenes  of  care  and  sadness, 

With  peace  upon  her  brow, 
Her  spirit,  blest  with  untold  gladness, 

Is  sealed  an  angel  now. 


138         ON    THE     DEATH     OF    MRS.   J.    U.    L 

Although  her  heart  was  blessed  below 
With  all  that  love  could  give, 

Yet  gifts  from  which  affection  flow 
Cannot  forever  live. 

As  twilight  fadeth  in  the  west, 

When  droops  the  eye  of  day, 
So  calmly  did  she  sink  to  rest, 

Passing  from  earth  away,  — 
That,  with  a  heavenly  vision  brigh.t, 

She  might  behold  that  land 
Where  fall  no  shades  of  sorrow's  night, 

Where  waiting  seraphs  stand. 

She  left  us  when  we  fondly  dreamed 

Her  stay  with  us  was  long, 
So  happy  all  her  prospects  seemed, 

So  joyous  was  her  song. 
But  though  she  lies  so  still  and  cold, 

Her  accents  linger  near  ; 
As  leaves  of  memory  fast  unfold, 

They  wake  the  silent  tear. 

Not  for  herself  she  lived  alone, 

Nor  e'er  the  sick  forgot : 
She  knew  their  sorrows  every  one, 

And  wished  a  happier  lot. 
The  tribute  of  the  silent  tear 

Revealed  her  pitying  heart, 
Which  made  her  friendship  still  more  dear, 

Too  true  to  soon  depart. 

We  think  of  all  the  pleasant  things 

She  spoke  to  us  in  peace, 
Before  her  spirit  spread  its  wings, 

To  gain  its  sweet  release ; 


ON    THE     DEATH     OF    MRS.    J.    U.    L.         139 

Safe  in  love's  treasury  we  keep 

As  jewels,  every  word, 
Which  sympathy,  most  kind  and  deep, 

From  its  true  fountain  stirred. 

She  sleeps  in  peace,  her  rest  is  sweet, 

Her  conflicts  all  are  o'er, 
Eternal  pleasures  now  her  greet, 

A  victor  evermore. 
She  learned  the  song  the  ransomed  know, 

When  saved  from  woe  and  sin, 
She  saw  the  glory  from  below, 

And  boldly  entered  in. 

We  miss  her ;  but  we  not  again 

Would  wish  her  back  to  earth, 
To  know  the  ills  and  bear  the  pain 

Which  here  'mid  tears  have  birth,  — 
Where  hearts  with  sorrow  broken 

Mourn  on  the  desert  shore, 
And  look  for  love's  sweet  token 

To  bless  them  evermore. 

Her  memory  is  truly  blest ; 

For  as  the  righteous  die, 
She  gladly  claimed  her  future  rest, 

Her  birthright  from  on  high. 
Precious  the  death  of  those  who  sleep 

Eeposing  "  in  the  Lord," 
He  will  the  sacred  treasure  keep 

According  to  his  word,  — 

Immortal,  free  from  every  stain, 

Angelic,  holy,  pure, 
She  waits  to  meet  us  once  again, 

Where  happy  scenes  endure, 


140  ONE    KIND     WORD. 

United  then  to  part  no  more, 
Our  joyful  feet  shall  stand 

With  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before, 
Safe  in  the  promised  land. 


ONE    KIND    WORD. 


ONE  kindly  word,  how  sweet  its  tone, 
When  dropped  from  lips  sincere. 

It  has  a  cadence  all  its  own, 
So  soft,  so  pure,  so  clear. 

The  gentlest  whisper  may  convey 

Blest  music  to  the  heart, 
And  vibrate  through  each  happy  day, 

Touched  by  its  magic  art. 

Sweet  memories  will  gather  fast 
Around  our  paths  each  day, 

And  peace  a  golden  sunshine  cast, 
Not  soon  to  fade  away. 

And  when  we  cull  the  choicest  flowers 
Which  bloom  to  charm  us  here, 

They  but  recall  those  halcyon  hours 
By  friendship  ere  made  dear. 

Let  loving  words  fall  on  my  ear, 

In  such  bewitching  tone, 
That  I  may  still  sweet  music  hear 

When  dearest  friends  have  gone. 


ON    A     SLEEPING     CHILD.  141 

Then  on  some  calm  and  twilight  hour, 

When  zephyrs  fan  the  trees, 
Shall  I  still  feel  their  cheering  power, 

When  whispered  by  the  leaves. 

And  when  sweet  perfumes  fill  the  air 

At  morning's  rosy  hour, 
They  will  but  speak  of  joys  most  rare, 

Which  bloomed  in  friendship's  bower. 

No  kind,  sweet  word  is  e'er  forgot, 

Which  falls  from  lips  most  true ; 
Each  is  a  bright  "  Forget-me-not," 

All  wet  with  sparkling  dew. 


ON    A    SLEEPING    CHILD 

SLEEP  on,  thou  little  slumberer, 

Upon  thy  mother's  arm  ; 
Thou  know'st  no  fear  nor  sorrow  there, 

Secure  from  all  alarm. 
In  quiet  dream  thou  restest  now, 

As  on  a  bed  of  flowers,  — 
E'en  as  a  lily  bows  its  head, 

When  fall  the  summer  showers. 

Blest  angels  guard  thy  little  bed, 

And  fold  their  wings,  to  stay 
Beside  thy  lovely  form,  to  keep 

All  shadows  far  away. 
And  when  the  sunshine's  golden  lips 

Drink  up  the  dew  at  dawn, 
They  plant  fair  blushes  on  thy  cheeks, 

Caught  from  the  breath  of  morn. 
10 


142  TO     GAROPHELIA. 

Sleep  on  !  thou  little  innocent, 

Enjoy  thy  peaceful  rest, 
E'en  like  a  timid,  gentle  dove 

Within  its  downy  nest ; 
And  when  thy  merry,  happy  songs 

Float  on  the  perfumed  air, 
No  liquid  note  will  sound  more  sweet, 

Nor  silvery  chimes  more  rare. 

When  through  the  woods  and  shady  dells 

With  buoyant  steps  you  roam, 
To  cull  the  sweetest,  choicest  flowers, 

To  grace  thy  native  home, 
May  you  with  joyous  heart  behold, 

Upon  the  petals  fair, 
The  tokens  of  thy  Father's  power, 

Who  makes  us  all  his  care. 

And  when  shall  pass  away  so  soon 

Thy  childhood's  hours  serene,  — 
When  duty's  silent  voice  shall  lead 

Through  many  a  varied  scene, 
May  benedictions  from  the  skies 

Beam  on  thy  upward  way, 
Till  all  earth's  cares  and  griefs  are  lost, 

When  dawns  the  perfect  day. 


TO    GAROPHELIA. 

THOUGH  pure  and  holy  be  the  bond, 

Which  to  our  secret  thoughts  respond, 

And  bid  us  twine  a  sacred  bower, 

In  token  of  each  pleasant  hour, 

Yet  leave  we  here  no  emblems  fair, 

With  which  such  cherished  thoughts  to  share. 


ANOTHER     YEAR.  143 

But  in  affection's  shrine  will  be 
Enduring  gems  of  constancy, 
Which  will  reflect  both  joy  and  peace, 
When  cold  deceit  and  flattery  cease, 
And  shed  a  lustre  o'er  our  way, 
With  sweet  content  from  day  to  day. 

True  friendship  sheds  a  holy  light 
In  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  night, 
And  studs  its  curtain,  dark  and  drear, 
With  stars,  —  pure  kindly  acts,  —  most  dear 
To  suffering  ones,  oppressed  with  care, 
Who  oft  no  tender  feelings  share. 

Our  happiest  moments,  pure,  serene, 
Brighten  like  flowers  a  dreary  scene  ; 
And  like  their  fragrance  may  convey 
Sweet  solace  in  a  darksome  day. 
They  calmly  cheer  the  ills  of  earth, 
Where  gloom  with  its  sad  train  has  birth. 

Yet  in  fond  memory  shall  abide 
Each  friendly  act,  whate'er  betide  ; 
Each  pleasing  wish,  all  proffered  aid, 
Shall  still  remain  when  health  shall  fade, 
With  kindly  influence  e'er  to  cheer 
A  lonely  heart  when  pains  are  near. 


ANOTHER    YEAR. 

WHAT  joys  and  hopes,  what  griefs  and  fears. 
Are  numbered  with  the  fleeting  years  ! 
What  trials  crowd  the  path  of  life, 
What  grievous  cares,  what  busy  strife, 


144  ANOTHER    YEAIl. 

0 

What  tears  bedew  the  brightest  eye, 
What  shadows  veil  the  sunniest  sky, 
What  blissful  thoughts,  rich  with  perfume, 
Are  born,  alas !  but  die  too  soon  ! 

As  Time's  swift  chariot  rolls  along, 
Filled  with  its  vast  and  varied  throng, 
All  eager  for  that  shining  goal, 
Which  can  appease  the  longing  soul ; 
How  very  few,  alas  !  can  tell 
Of  secret  peace,  which  charmeth  well, 
Or  speak  of  hopes,  by  faith  made  sure, 
As  living  truths,  which  must  endure. 

How  many  a  joyous  heart  has  seen 
Bright  prospects  fail,  as  in  a  dream 
One  sees  some  cherished  object  fly 
Just  when  it  seemed  approaching  nigh. 
How  many  a  sunny  spot,  once  fair, 
Now  feels  the  blight  of  sorrow  there, 
Because  its  loveliest  flower  has  gone, 
No  more  to  grace  its  native  home. 

The  purest  and  the  best  depart, 
And  leave  a  gloom  within  the  heart, 
Dispelled  alone  but  by  that  power 
Which  can  illume  the  darkest  hour ; 
Then  sweetest  memories  gather  fast 
Around  the  sainted  of  the  past, 
Which  bid  us  still  unwearied  view 
The  pearly  gate  they  entered  through. 

Another  year  has  rolled  away ; 
Another  year  has  dawned  to-day, 
Bright  with  the  hopes  of  joy  and  peace, 
And  crowned  with  gifts  rich  with  increase  ; 


ROCKY     GLEN.  145 

May  purest  blessings  from  above, 
Distilling  from  the  Fount  of  Love, 
Fill  every  heart,  both  rich  and  poor, 
So  that  no  soul  could  ask  for  more. 

And  as  the  seasons  pass  away, 
Which  nearer  bring  the  perfect  day, 
Which  knows  no  pain,  nor  toil,  nor  care, 
Nor  shadows  dark,  nor  trials  there  ; 
Should  we  be  called  to  that  sweet  rest, 
Which  e'er  awaits  the  truly  blest, 
May  we  with  joy  the  summons  hear, 
And  triumph  over  every  fear. 


EOCKY    GLEN. 

IN  "  Rocky  Glen,"  near  the  deep-sounding  sea, 
Is  the  beautiful  spot  that  is  chosen  for  me, 
Where  beneath  the  green  boughs,  I  can  list  to  the  lays, 
Which  gay  warblers  repeat  through  the  long  summer  days, 
And  can  breathe  the  sweet  perfume  which  floats  slowly  by 
On  the  wings  of  mild  zephyrs,  beneath  a  June  sky, 
Often  charmed  by  the  harmony  nature  bestows 
On  my  glad  listening  ear,  as  I  sink  to  repose. 

Near  my  pleasant  retreat  flows  a  pure  crystal  stream, 
Which  glides  slowly  along  the  green  meadows  between, 
On  whose  bright  mirrored  surface  the  starlets  at  night 
Seem  most  friendly  to  blend  with  the  moon's  silvery  light, 
And  to  vie  with  the  sunshine  which  peeped  through  the  trees, 
When  disturbed  by  the  breath  of  the  morning's  pure  breeze, 
Ere  the  beautiful  sight  should  soon  vanish  away, 
As  the  roseate  hues  in  the  east  spoke  of  day. 


146  "LET   THERE   BE   LIGHT." 

In  the  whispering  woodlands  which  skirt  the  green  fields, 
All  replete  with  rich  bounty,  the  harvesting  yields, 
The  children  of  solitude,  —  wild  flowers  bloom, 
E'er  distilling  their  treasures  of  sweetest  perfume, 
As  they  peep  from  their  covert,  all  beauteous  and  fair, 
Richly  dripping  with  dew,  in  the  soft  quiet  air,  — 
The  faint  type  of  that  glory  which  graced  the  wide  earth, 
When  the  morning  stars  sang  o'er  their  heavenly  birth. 

When  old  ocean  in  fury  is  shaking  its  mane, 
Like  a  terrified  beast  which  no  master  can  tame, 
And  its  voice  breaks  so  wildly  along  the  wide  shore, 
Oft  awakening  the  gloom  with  an  increasing  roar,  — 
Then  I  list  to  the  conflict  of  armies  again, 
As  they  surged  to  and  fro  on  the  blood-checkered  plain, 
But  hear  in  the  stillness,  when  the  war-cry  is  o'er, 
The  soft  whisperings  of  peace,  which  my  quiet  restore. 

In  the  spring-time,  when  violets  spangle  the  lawn 
With  their  little  blue  eyes,  on  a  beautiful  morn,  — 
In  the  summer,  when  music  floats  through  sylvan  bowers, 
And  cool  zephyrs  are  blest  with  the  breath  of  sweet  flowers, 
When  the  rainbows  of  autumn  are  seen  in  the  trees, 
And  the  harvester's  chorus  is  borne  on  the  breeze, 
Then  let  all  who  may  wish  from  their  sorrows  to  flee, 
Once  behold  "  Rocky  Glen,"  my  new  home  by  the  sea. 


"LET    THERE    BE    LIGHT." 

THICK  darkness  brooded  o'er  the  slumbering  earth, 

While  silent  at  the  gate  of  morning,  slept 

The  warder,  with  his  golden  quiver  full 

Of  shining  arrows  barbed  with  crimson  light, 

Which  lay  concealed  as  in  a  sacred  shrine, 


"LET   THERE   BE   LIGHT."  147 

Awaiting  royal  hands  to  bring  them  forth. 

Above  his  brow,  a  crown  of  purest  white, 

Inlaid  with  brilliants  and  rose-tinted  pearls, 

In  silent  grandeur  rested,  like  a  cloud 

Of  diamonds  girt  with  bands  of  rainbow  hue, 

Whose  beauty  veiled  in  deepest  shade  refused 

To  cast  a  glory  o'er  the  dismal  scene. 

Above,  no  star-gemmed  canopy  o'erspread 

The  wide  expanse,  on  which  are  seen  the  steps 

Of  angels,  as  in  countless  hosts  they  march 

On  azure  pavements  round  the  sapphire  throne ; 

Below,  no  signs  of  life  or  beauty  stirred 

The  praise  of  seraphs,  who,  with  folded  wings 

In  wonder  e'er  behold  the  wondrous  power 

Of  Him  who  maketh  all  things  wise  and  good  and  fair. 

On  either  hand  dark  curtains  hung,  where  lay 

Entombed  within  the  wide  unmeasured  space, 

A  priceless,  unknown  jewel,  destined  yet 

Upon  the  signet  ring  of  Him  to  shine 

Whose  royal  seal  proclaims  the  wisdom,  love, 

And  matchless  skill  of  the  great  Architect. 

Upon  the  face  of  mighty  waters  dwelt 

A  cloud,  which  in  its  hollow  chambers  drear 

Concealed  the  restless  billows  capped  with  foam, 

And  hushed  its  echoes  in  deep  solitude. 

The  searching  eye  of  Deity,  with  whom 

Alike  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  one, 

Beheld  the  lonely  scene,  so  desolate, 

While  on  His  ear  low  moans  from  Heaven  above, 

And  earth  beneath,  fell  piteously  distinct, 

Like  the  sad  wailings  of  the  wintry  wind, 

As  in  their  prison-house  enchained,  they  sighed 

In  mutual  grief  for  life,  and  light  unknown ; 

Then  moved  by  love  and  power  infinite, 

In  majesty  He  gave  the  great  command,  — 

And  yet  commanded  from  His  throne  no  one,  — 

"  Let  there  be  light  I "  and  instantly  "  light  was." 


148  SLEEP. 


SLEEP. 


WHEN  night  with  unseen  fingers  draws 

Its  curtain  o'er  the  sky, 
Embroidered  with  those  brilliant  gems, 

Which  shine  so  pure  on  high, 
Within  its  darksome  shade  there  comes 

The  messenger  of  rest, 
Who  in  deep  silence  folds  his  wings, 

Above  each  weary  breast. 

With  noiseless  footsteps  soft  and  light, 

Like  flakes  of  falling  snow, 
He  ventures  near,  and  lays  his  wand 

Upon  my  aching  brow, 
Forgetful  of  those  varied  cares, 

With  which  earth's  labor  teems, 
I  tread  the  flowery  paths  of  peace, 

Found  in  the  realm  of  dreams. 

I  oft  recline  in  lovely  bowers, 

And  muse  contented  there, 
Where  charming  fragrance,  freely  breathed, 

Pervades  the  balmy  air. 
I  wander  through  fair  meadows  green, 

Where  modest  violets  grow, 
And  through  the  woodland's  spicy  shade, 

Where  dancing  streamlets  flow. 

I  list  enchanted  to  those  strains 
Which  sweetly  charm  the  mind, 

Struck  from  a  harp  by  unseen  hands, 
And  borne  upon  the  wind ; 


ON   THE    DEATH    OF   MRS.   JENNIE    B.    L .     149 

I  catch,  the  burden  of  a  song, 

As  floats  the  echo  by, 
Whose  heavenly  cadence  breathes  of  joys 

Which  never,  never  die. 

I  meet  again  the  loved  and  true, 

Whose  voice  once  cheered  nie  here, 
And  list  to  hear  those  accents  pure 

Which  once  brought  heaven  near. 
Content  and  blest  I  thus  would  stay, 

And  know  no  harm  nor  fears, 
Where  angel  spirits  always  dwell, 

To  chase  desponding  tears. 

But  sleep  extends  her  gentle  wings, 

Obedient  to  her  laws, 
And  night  before  the  gates  of  morn 

Her  curtain  dark  withdraws. 
I  wake  amid  life's  toils  and  cares, 

And  find  not  all  a  dream ; 
But  though  dark  clouds  may  round  us  lower, 

Blest  rays  of  hope  still  gleam. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  JENNIE  B.  L . 

Is  home  made  desolate  once  more  ? 

Do  special  loved  ones  mourn  ? 
Are  stricken  hearts  in  sorrow  bowed, 

By  sad  bereavement  torn  ? 
Ah  !  Death  has  one  sharp,  cruel  dart 

Prepared  alike  for  all, 
The  good  and  pure  escape  it  not, 

But  oft  the  sooner  fall. 


150  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  JENNIE  B.  L- 

Like  roses  gemmed  with  crystal  dew, 

Upon  a  morn  in  June, 
Which  nestle  'mid  their  petals  bright, 

Lest  they  should  fade  too  soon, 
The  fairest  and  the  best  are  sought, 

For  such  have  special  worth, 
The  fragrance  of  their  holy  lives 

Proclaim  their  heavenly  birth. 

When  Autumn's  cold  and  piercing  winds 

Sweep  o'er  the  blooming  plain, 
Bright  flowers  are  in  their  beauty  lost, 

Till  Spring  returns  again  ; 
Even  so  our  friends  who  leave  our  side, 

Touched  by  death's  chilling  hand, 
Shall  live  with  richer,  lovelier  grace 

Within  the  better  land. 


Her  spirit  gently  passed  away, 

Like  twilight's  peaceful  hour 
When  fragrant  zephyrs  stir  the  leaves 

And  whisper  to  each  flower. 
Her  sun  has  set  in  glorious  light, 

No  cloud  obscured  the  way ; 
We  know  a  sorrowing,  tearful  night, 

But  slie  the  perfect  day. 

When  words  of  prayer  from  fervent  hearts 

Addressed  the  heavenly  throne, 
God  sent  the  special  message  forth, 

And  claimed  her  for  his  own. 
Thus  wafted  homeward  to  the  skies, 

On  wings  of  faith  she  rose, 
Like  incense  from  the  holy  place, 

To  blest  and  sure  repose. 


ON    THE    DEATH    OP   MRS.   JENNIE    B.    L .     151 

Our  Father  guards  his  chosen  here, 

He  knows  their  tears  and  pain, 
And  they  are  safely  treasured  up 

For  everlasting  gain. 
What  though  earth's  brightest  prospects  fail, 

And  hopes  are  born  to  die, 
Though  sad  and  strange  their  pilgrimage, 

Their  "  record  is  on  high." 

What  though  unseen  the  hand  has  been 

Which  led  her  patient  way, 
Which  pillowed  oft  the  aching  head 

And  wiped  her  tears  away ; 
What  though  no  voice,  nor  angel's  wing 

Was  heard  at  midnight  hour, 
Blest  words  of  comfort  oft  she  heard, 

And  felt  their  secret  power. 

What  though  the  casket,  bright  and  fair, 

Is  marred  by  death's  design, 
The  precious  treasure  fairer  still 

Shall  with  more  beauty  shine. 
The  soul  released  from  earthly  bonds, 

Which  checked  its  progress  here, 
Shall  know  more  glorious,  wondrous  things, 

Than  mortals  ever  hear. 

It  was  her  choice,  her  heart's  desire, 

To  do  her  Father's  will, 
To  suffer,  if  it  needs  must  be, 

Obedience  to  fulfil. 
She  knew  the  hand  that  cast  the  veil 

Upon  life's  sunniest  sky, 
But  also  saw  beyond  the  gloom 

That  glory  shone  on  high. 


152     ON    THE    DEATH    OF   MRS.   JENNIE    B.   L- 


And  when  her  burdened  soul  would  sink 

Beneath  the  swelling  wave, 
By  faith  she  grasped  the  proffered  hand, 

Which  has  all  power  to  save. 
With  confidence  she  trusted  Him, 

Who  knew  her  fondest  will, 
And  often  heard  as  from  His  lips 

The  blessed  "  Peace,  be  still." 

God  "  giveth  his  beloved  sleep," 

So  sweet  her  rest  shall  be, 
Forever  from  earth's  ills  released, 

From  all  temptation  free. 
In  mansions  long  prepared  she  dwells, 

With  angels  ever  blest, 
Where  not  a  pain  nor  sigh  nor  tear 

Invade  that  glorious  rest. 

Victorious  over  every  foe, 

She  found  the  heavenly  shore, 
And,  crowned  with  pure,  celestial  light, 

She  triumphs  evermore. 
Her  voice  shall  swell  the  conqueror's  song, 

With  blest,  seraphic  strains, 
While  joy  supreme  shall  fill  her  soul, 

Where  bliss  forever  reigns. 

Then  sorrow  not,  ye  mourning  friends ! 

From  bitter  tears  refrain ! 
The  loss  ye  now  so  deeply  feel 

WTas  her  eternal  gain. 
The  hand  that  wounds  shall  kindly  heal, 

And  give  you  constant  peace, 
While  benedictions  from  the  skies 

Shall  yet  your  joys  increase. 


AUTUMN.  153 


The  absent  one  so  fondly  dear, 

The  object  of  your  care, 
You  soon  shall  meet  with  peace  again, 

Her  love  more  fully  share. 
At  home  within  the  pearly  gates, 

Near  Jesus'  loving  breast, 
To  golden  lyres  she  e'er  shall  chant 

The  anthems  of  the  blest. 

Another  chain  now  sweetly  draws 

Your  burdened  hearts  on  high, 
The  "  anchor  of  your  soul"  is  there, 

For  there  your  treasures  lie. 
Then  sorrow  not  like  those  who  know 

On  earth  no  "  blessed  hope," 
But  kiss  the  rod  which  love  appoints, 

And  trustingly  look  up. 


AUTUMN. 

AUTUMN,  with  a  queenly  beauty. 

Walks  in  triumph  o'er  the  plain, 
Giving  to  the  changing  woodland 

All  their  varied  charms  again ; 
As  she  glides  with  measured  footsteps 

O'er  the  hills  and  meadows  green, 
Every  tender  leaf  is  tinted, 

Ere  her  royal  robes  are  seen. 

Golden  sheaves  of  bounteous  harvest 
Welcome  her  each  sunny  morn, 

When  they  hear  her  rustling  garments 
Passing  through  the  fields  of  corn ; 


154  AUTUMN. 

When  with  patient  ear  they  listen 
To  the  words  she  chants  the  while, 

Which  can  cause  their  withered  graces 
With  a  pleasing  joy  to  smile. 

In  parterre  and  blooming  valley, 

Where  bright  flowerets  lingering  stay, 
In  warm  sunshine  all  rejoicing 

Ere  their  glory  fade  away, 
She  draws  near  with  timid  footsteps, 

Lulling  all  to  dewy  sleep, 
Loving  o'er  their  peaceful  slumbers 

Guardian  watchfulness  to  keep. 

On  the  sighing  wind  she  breatheth 

Pensive  tones  for  every  year, 
As  a  requiem  o'er  the  lost  ones, 

Who  performed  their  mission  here. 
Like  a  fragrant  bud  of  summer, 

Drooping  when  they  seem  most  fair, 
Cherished  words  to  us  bequeathing, 

Chaining  sweetest  memories  there. 

With  untaught  but  skilful  fingers 

She  weaves  chaplets  for  the  dead, 
Ere  the  fading,  trembling  leaflets 

Seek  their  lowly,  mossy  bed ; 
While  in  those  rare  tints  she  painteth, 

With  a  true  and  skilful  hand, 
Types  we  see  of  fadeless  beauty, 

Which  adorns  the  better  land. 

Like  the  changing  leaf  of  autumn, 

Man  must  also  pass  away, 
Though  the  voice  of  love  and  friendship 

Loud  invite  a  long  delay  ; 


TO     GERALDINE.  155 

But  beyond  earth's  changing  shadows, 
Where  its  griefs  and  cares  ne'er  come, 

Scenes  of  endless  joy  invite  him 
To  a  blest,  eternal  home. 


TO    GERALDINE. 

I  THINK  of  thee,  when  beauteous  morn 
With  golden  tints  the  skies  adorn,  — 
When  heaven's  blue  portals  open  wide, 
Through  which  the  fairy  coursers  glide, 
On  wings  of  light,  to  chase  away 
The  sombre  hues  preceding  day,  — 
When  sunbeams  stoop  to  kiss  the  dew, 
Resplendent  with  each  rainbow  hue,  — 
When  flowers  unfold  their  petals  fair, 
And  pour  their  perfume  on  the  air, 
Reflecting  back  their  gifts  to  heaven, 
An  incense  sweet,  so  wisely  given,  — 
When  nature  from  reposing  wakes, 
And  every  morn  new  beauty  takes, 
When  warblers  true  their  songs  anew, 
With  throats  just  moistened  with  the  dew, 
Whose  anthems  vibrate  on  the  ear, 
In  notes  so  sweet  that  heaven  seems  near ; 
When  thus  the  welcome  morn  I  view, 
My  chosen  friend,  I  think  of  you. 

I  think  of  thee,  at  dazzling  noon, 

When  bashful,  hides  the  beauteous  moon, 

Perhaps  at  her  siesta  sleeping, 

Her  silver  robe  for  evening  keeping,  — 

When  gushing  fountains  sparkling  play 

Throughout  the  livelong  summer  day, 


156  ON    THE    DEATH     OF    AN    INFANT, 

And  cast  their  pearly  treasures  round. 
With  bounteous  hand,  and  joyful  sound, 
Inviting  all  to  cooling  shade, 
Which  rosy  bowers  have  near  them  made. 

I  think  of  thee  at  close  of  day, 
When  sunset  rolls  his  car  away, 
On  azure  pavement  in  its  flight, 
With  burning  wheels  of  crimson  light, 
Eeflecting  through  the  western  sky 
Those  gorgeous  shades  of  matchless  dye, 
Which  are  but  types  most  faintly  given, 
Of  fairer  scenes,  fadeless  in  heaven. 


LINES, 

SUGGESTED     BY     THE     DEATH     OF    AN     INFANT. 

A  BIRDLING  cradled  in  its  nest, 

Upon  Helena's  isle, 
One  moment  left  its  mother's  breast, 

To  prove  its  strength  awhile. 
All  pure  it  wandered  forth  alone, 

It  found  a  sunnier  clime, 
On  angel  pinions  swiftly  borne, 

Beyond  the  bounds  of  time. 

Nor  did  it  care  to  come  again, 

Though  downy  was  its  nest, 
For,  free  from  every  earthly  stain, 

It  found  the  Saviour's  breast, 
Where,  joyous  in  its  peaceful  home, 

Exempt  from  every  ill, 
It  wished  its  mother,  too,  might  come, 

To  see  her  darling  still. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT.    157 

Though  flowers  bloom  so  sweetly  here, 

How  soon  they  must  decay,  — 
Though  memory  cause  the  bitter  tear, 

'T  is  sweet  to  look  away 
To  that  blest  land  where  all  is  bright, 

Where  naught  is  born  to  die, 
Where  come  no  shades  of  sorrow's  night, 

Where  tears  bedim  no  eye. 

The  tender  bud  that  drooped  to  earth, 

Which  God  had  kindly  given, 
'Mid  honors  of  celestial  birth 

Shall  fairer  bloom  in  heaven. 
Then  be  consoled,  ye  sorrowing  one, 

Let  hope  dispel  each  fear, 
No  floweret  left  to  thrive  alone 

Could  yield  such  fragrance  here. 

Two  moons  had  waned  since  his  first  breath 

On  earth  was  transient  given, 
Before  he  silent  sank  in  death, 

To  be  enrolled  in  heaven. 
With  pure,  seraphic  pleasures  blest, 

Such  little  lambs  shall  be 
Fit  subjects  for  that  holy  rest, 

Such  blessed  purity. 

Safe  landed  on  that  heavenly  shore 

Where  partings  never  come, 
His  angel  presence  evermore 

Shall  bless  his  mother's  home. 
His  tiny  voice  to  harps  of  gold 

Shall  chant  immortal  lays, 
While  constant  glories  fast  unfold, 

Bespeaking  ceaseless  praise. 
11 


158  LINES     TO     A    FRIEND. 

On  flowery  plains  'neath  brighter  skies, 

Within  the  promised  land, 
Parents  shall  view,  with  joyful  eyes, 

Their  little  children  stand,  — 
For  such  as  these  the  Saviour  blest, 

Within  Jerusalem ; 
And  yet,  like  jewels,  shall  they  rest 

Bright  in  his  diadem. 

Where  peaceful  streamlets  murmur  slow, 

Through  landscapes  far  outspread, 
Where  beauty  shall  pure  gifts  bestow, 

Their  little  feet  shall  tread, 
Directed  by  their  Shepherd  where 

"  Still-waters  "  glide  in  peace, 
The  little  flock  his  love  shall  share, 

Which  ne'er  toward  them  shall  cease. 


LINES, 

ADDRESSED     TO    A    FRIEND     ON     THE     RECOLLECTION 
OF     HAPPY    HOURS. 

THOSE  bright,  happy  hours  I  ne'er  can  forget, 
For  memory  there  its  bright  signet  has  set,  — 
I  think  of  those  days  'mid  my  sorrows  and  pain, 
Though  pleasant,  I  ne'er  shall  enjoy  them  again, 
In  despondency  often  they  brought  me  sweet  cheer, 
While  friendship's  kind  hand  was  so  willingly  near. 

Our  joys  that  are  sweetest  the  soonest  decay, 
Too  precious  their  nature  to  here  longer  stay, 


LINES     TO     A    FRIEND.  159 

Like  sunset  all  burnished  with  crimson  and  gold, 
A  few  moments  passed,  and  their  splendor  is  told  ; 
Though  they  fade  from  our  visions,  they  may  not  depart, 
Forever  unseen  they  may  live  in  the  heart. 

Though  the  dearest  of  hopes  refuse  longer  to  stay, 
And  our  life's  fairest  scenes  like  the  dew  pass  away, 
Yet  there  is  a  bright  land  where  our  peace  shall  remain, 
With  no  sickness,  no  sorrow,  no  partings,  no  pain ; 
In  that  Paradise  blooming  with  ceaseless  delight, 
May  kind  friends,  though  long  parted,  forever  unite. 

In  that  fair  "  better  land,"  where  new  beauties  shall  bloom,  — 

Where  bright  flowers  shall  sweeten  the  air  with  perfume,  — 

Where  all  that  is  wonderful,  joyous,  and  pure, 

With  all  that  is  holy  shall  ever  endure, 

May  you,  crowned,  immortal,  its  glories  behold, 

With  angelic  bliss,  which  can  never  be  told. 

Soon,  soon  shall  the  promised,  most  glorious  morn, 
On  Zion's  glad  children  triumphantly  dawn, 
Her  turrets  already  are  gleaming  with  light, 
Her  spires  are  glistening  with  splendor  most  bright, 
And  her  palaces  soon  shall  re-echo  the  praise 
Of  the  jubilee  hymn  to  the  "  Ancient  of  Days." 

O,  then  may  your  voice  'mid  the  seraphic  throng, 
Be  sweetly  attuned  to  the  heavenly,  song,  — 
To  swell  high  the  anthem  to  Jesus  our  King, 
Who  comes  to  his  saints  full  salvation  to  bring  ! 
Then  in  the  new  earth,  made  like  Eden  most  fair, 
May  you  in  the  victory  blissfully  share. 


160  NO     BEST     FOR     US     HERE. 


NO    REST    FOR    US    HERE. 

No  rest  for  the  weary,  —  no  rest  for  the  soul, 
Where  clouds  often  gather,  where  deep  billows  roll : 
While  prosperous  and  happy,  our  path  may  seem  bright, 
Our  prospects  most  pleasing,  our  burdens  most  light ; 
But  when  our  hearts  fail  us  through  sorrow  and  fear, 
O  then  do  we  feel  there  's  no  rest  for  us  here ! 

No  rest  for  the  weary,  —  no  rest  here  on  earth, 
Where  pains  and  afflictions  and  troubles  have  birth,  — 
Where  all  that  can  chain  and  enfeeble  the  mind 
Is  often  most  near  us  when  pleasures  we  find, 
And  we  frequently  say,  'mid  a  smile  and  a  tear, 
No  rest  for  the  weary,  —  no  rest  for  us  here. 

While  sin  has  dominion,  no  peace  can  be  found, 
Though  the  fairest  of  flowers  our  pathway  surround, 
Though  sweet  be  the  fruit  we  apply  to  the  lip, 
As  grateful  as  nectar  which  fairies  might  sip  ; 
Yet  often  while  plucking  the  rose-bud  so  dear, 
The  thorn  but  reminds  us  —  no  rest  for  us  here. 

Here  gloom  has  its  portion,  and  grief  has  its  sway, 

Like  clouds  they  oft  darken  our  happiest  day, 

And  cast  a  drear  shadow  where  bright  rays  have  shone, 

Obscuring  those  treasures  we  cherish  alone ; 

Yes,  oft  when  our  days  seem  most  sunny  and  clear, 

Our  sorrows  remind  us  —  no  rest  for  us  here. 

The  evils  of  sin  we  may  always  here  feel, 
If  o'er  our  calm  spirits  a  gloom  should  but  steal ; 
Each  sweet  has  its  contrast,  each  pleasure  its  snare, 
Though  blossoms  may  sweeten  the  fresh  morning  air, 
The  poison  oft  lurks  where  no  danger  seemed  near, 
And  pain  but  assures  us  —  no  rest  for  us  here. 


NO     REST     FOR     US    HERE.  161 

Content  and  profusion  may  gladden  each  heart, 
And  solace  each  fear  with  the  peace  they  impart, 
Yet  leaving  one  scene  filled  with  gifts  of  delight, 
The  next  may  then  greet  us  with  penury's  blight ; 
So  while  through  life's  quicksand  we  anxiously  steer, 
Experience  teaches  —  no  rest  for  us  here. 

The  pilgrim  to  Zion,  though  steadfast  his  gaze 

On  Jesus,  his  guide  through  this  world's  dreary  maze, 

Here  sighs,  as  the  signs  of  his  sorrows  unfold, 

Though  conscious  the  dross  then  escapes  from  the  gold ; 

Yet  patiently  suffering,  with  faith  and  hope  clear, 

His  heart  then  responds — there  's  no  rest  for  us  here. 

No  rest  for  the  weary  —  no  rest  can  be  found, 
This  side  of  the  beautiful  enchanted  ground  ; 
On  earth,  tribulation  and  trials  must  be, 
Till  sin  and  its  evils  forever  shall  flee ; 
Then  saints  e'er  exempt  from  a  sigh  and  a  tear, 
Will  gladly  exclaim,  O  sweet  rest  for  us  here  ! 

Sweet  rest  for  the  pilgrim,  —  sweet  rest  for  him  now, 
And  garlands  of  beauty  shall  deck  his  fair  brow ; 
His  trials  are  ended,  his  pleasures  begun, 
His  conquest  is  certain,  his  victory  won  ; 
Rejoicing  through  Jesus  his  laurels  to  wear, 
He  finds  then  unfailing  sweet  rest  always  there. 

O  glorious  rest !  we  would  share  its  repose, 

Where  the  thorn  never  stings,  —  where    the    brier  ne'er 

grows,  — 
Where  bright  flowers  shall  bloom  with  their  sweetness  to 

charm, 

And  naught  shall  inspire  even  dread  or  alarm,  — 
When  Paradise  will  with  its  wonders  requite 
Each  cheerful  beholder,  with  life  and  delight. 


162         YES,     THEN     I'LL     THINK     OF    YOU. 

Lord  !  grant  us  our  portion,  where  rest  can  be  found, — 
Where  holy  enjoyments  shall  always  abound,  — 
Where  glories  ineffable  shine  o'er  the  way, 
Resplendent  with  beauties  which  never  decay  ; 
There,  there  crowned  immortal,  eternally  blest, 
The  weary  shall  sing  of  his  sweet,  peaceful  rest. 


YES,   THEN    I  'LL    THINK  -OF    YOU 

WHEN  morn  with  rosy  beams  is  seen 
To  kiss  the  dew  from  leaf  and  flower, 

And  bid  the  tinted  roses  spread 

Their  petals  fair,  to  grace  the  bower, 

Then  when  I  see  each  lovely  hue, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

Then  blushing  blossoms  freely  yield 
Their  fragrance  to  the  morning  air, 

And  flowerets  of  all  hues  are  seen 
Revealing  beauties  each  may  share  ; 

When  blooming  nature's  gifts  I  view, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 

When  twilight  comes  with  measured  pace, 
To  soothe  the  cares  of  closing  day,  — 

When  perfumed  zephyrs  gently  breathe 
Their  grateful  odors  free  away ; 

'Tis  then,  when  trusting  hearts  are  true, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

When  night  with  sombre  curtain  hides 
The  golden  beams  of  life  and  light ;  — 

When  sparkling  gems  attract  our  eyes, 
With  brilliant  rays,  like  diamonds  bright, 


YES,    THEN     I'LL     THINK     OF    YOU.         163 

When  first  thy  favorite  star  I  view, 
Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 

When  spring-time^  comes,  all  gay  and  bright, 

Rejoicing  in  its  new-born  life,  — 
When  songsters  tune  their  little  throats, 

To  strains  unknown  to  mortal  strife,  — 
When  earth  is  dressed  in  robes  most  new, 
Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I'll  think  of  you. 

V  • 

WTien  music  comes  on  evening  breeze, 
With  welcome  notes  so  soft  and  sweet, 

As  to  entrance  each  listening  ear, 

And  bind  in  chains  the  lingering  feet, 

E'en  when  the  sweetest  tones  are  few, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 

When  scenes  of  pleasure  cheer  my  heart, 
And  tranquil  thoughts  afford  delight ;  — 

When  beauteous  prospects,  decked  with  flowers, 
Can  charm  my  mind,  and  please  the  sight,  — 

Whene'er  such  lovely  scenes  I  view, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 

When  in  retirement  memory  steals, 

To  happy  days,  forever  past,  — 
When  every  hour  new  joys  increased,  — 

Too  sweet  they  were  to  longer  last,  — 
Yes,  then,  when  friends  their  pledge  renew, 
I  love  to  think,  my  friend,  of  you. 

When  pleasant  scenes  lend  all  their  aid, 

To  sweetly  cheer  the  ills  of  life,  — 
When  loving  hearts,  like  angels  come,       x 

With  welcome  balm,  to  soothe  the  strife,  — 
When  friendship's  bands  are  strong  and  true, 
Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 


164    ON    THE     DEATH     OF    M- 


When  lonely  hours,  all  filled  with  gloom, 
Exert  their  power  to  grieve  the  mind,  — 

When,  if  one  voice  I  then  should  hear, 
A  source  of  peace  I  soon  should  find ; 

When  kindred  hearts  are  far  and  few, 

Yes,  then,  my  friend,  I  '11  think  of  you. 


ON  THE    DkATH   OF   M- 


SLEEP  on,  dear  mother  !  sweetly  sleep, 

Thy  sorrows  all  are  o'er, 
For  thou  hast  crossed  the  waters  deep, 

And  gained  the  heavenly  shore, 
But  we,  thy  children,  weeping  stay 

This  side  the  billowy  sea, 
And  pensive  count  each  weary  day, 

In  hope  of  meeting  thee. 

While  travelling  through  this  foreign  land, 

Where  brightest  hopes  decay, 
We  miss  thy  kind  and  willing  hand, 

Which  smoothed  our  roughest  way, — 
Which  plucked  the  brightest,  fairest  flowers 

To  cheer  our  wondering  sight, 
Which  often  toiled  through  lonely  hours, 

To  make  our  burdens  light. 

We  long  to  hear  that  voice  once  more 

Which  pleaded  for  our  good, 
And  numbered  purest  blessings  o'er, 

While  by  thy  side  we  stood  ; 
When  on  the  wings  of  faith  each  word 

Passed  upward  to  the  throne, 
Where  softest  whispers  e'er  are  heard, 

Not  for  ourselves  alone. 


ON     THE     DEATH     OF    M J F .     165 

We  long  to  see  that  gracious  smile, 

Which  chased  our  fears  away, 
And  made  our  spirits  glad  the  while, 

Throughout  the  livelong  day. 
Thy  gentle  tones  with  love  replete, 

So  charmed  the  listening  ear, 
That  we  would  oft  thy  name  repeat, 

Because  so  sweet  to  hear. 

"  Dear  mother ! "  still  the  accents  float 

Like  music  on  the  air, 
While  in  our  hearts  its  echoing  note 

Vibrates  distinctly  there ; 
And  safe  enshrined  this  name  shall  be, 

To  us  the  type  of  love, 
Till  we  once  more  thy  face  shall  see, 

And  speak  to  thee  above. 

"When  burdened  with  the  cares  of  life, 

Or  crushed  with  bitter  grief,  — 
When  weary  in  earth's  busy  strife, 

Our  hearts  find  no  relief, 
Then  will  we,  in  those  lonely  hours, 

When  skies  are  overcast, 
Be  young  again  among  the  flowers, 

While  musing  on  the  past. 

An  ornament  of  grace  she  wore, 

A  spirit  meek  and  kind, 
Such  honors  as  she  daily  bore 

On  earth  we  seldom  find  ; 
Her  timely  words,  —  her  fervent  zeal,  — 

Her  bright  example  here, 
To  us  her  special  worth  reveal, 

Still  to  affection  dear. 


166  THE     LITTLE     FAVORITE. 

Sweet  is  the  memory  of  the  blest 

Who  pass  from  earth  away, 
Like  sunbeams  in  the  fading  west, 

To  see  a  brighter  day. 
Within  the  blessed  realms  of  light 

Their  bliss  will  be  complete, 
And  fadeless  glories  greet  their  sight, 

With  endless  joys  replete. 


THE    LITTLE    FAVORITE. 

MY  favorite  was  a  charming  pet, 

But  just  four  summers  old, 
Her  merry  laugh  is  ringing  yet, 

Her  worth  was  never  told. 
A  lily  rested  on  her  brow, 

A  rose  upon  each  cheek, 
But  though  as  pure  as  spotless  snow, 

Death  came  the  flower  to  seek. 

Her  eyes  were  of  a  heavenly  blue, 

So -bright,  so  soft,  so  rare, 
That  words  within  her  heart  so  true 

Were  read  most  quickly  there. 
Eich  clustering  curls  where  golden  light 

Had  found  a  dwelling-place, 
Hung  o'er  her  dimpled  shoulders  white, 

With  most  bewitching  grace. 

I  saw  her  in  a  joyous  mood 
Twine  garlands  in  her  hair, 

And  give  her  bright  canary  food 
As  he  perched  lightly  there  ; 


THE     LITTLE     FAVORITE.  167 

I  saw  her  clap  her  little  hands, 

And  dance  about  with  glee, 
Because  I  failed  at  her  commands, 

Her  hiding-place  to  see. 

The  presence  of  this  fairy  bright 

Brought  sunshine  home  to  all, 
The  echo  of  her  footsteps  light 

Was  music  in  the  hall. 
I  left  "  my  little  rose-bud  "  fair, 

At  play  with  other  flowers, 
And  hoped  no  cloud  of  sadness  there 

Would  shade  life's  purest  hours. 

I  saw  the  darling  as  she  lay 

Upon  her  bed  of  pain, 
And  wore  the  weary  hours  away, 

Inviting  sleep  again ; 
I  saw  the  signet  on  her  brow, 

Of  one  who  knew  his  own, 
Her  friends  were  weeping  sadly  now, 

Nor  mourned  they  quite  alone. 

'T  was  twilight  hour,  —  the  moon  was  still, 

And  smooth  her  little  bed, 
A  cloud  of  gloom  both  dark  and  chill 

O'er  all  things  seemed  to  spread. 
While  gazing  round,  the  truth  I  read 

In  toys  and  vacant  chair,  — 
An  angel  from  that  home  had  fled,  — 

No  more  she  tarried  there. 

Her  little  hands  upon  her  breast 

In  peaceful  quiet  lay, 
As  if  she  thus  had  sunk  to  rest 

Upon  a  summer  day. 


168  THE     LITTLE     FAVORITE. 

The  smile  upon  her  face  was  seen, 
Which  she  was  wont  to  wear, 

As  if  she  thus  in  dreams  serene 
Found  pleasure  everywhere. 

An  angel  bright  had  kindly  come 

Adown  the  starry  skies, 
To  guide  her  to  that  glorious  home, 

Where  beauty  never  dies. 
She  knew  the  blest  one  when  he  came, 

With  shining  garments  white, 
For  she  before  had  seen  the  same, 

In  vision  of  the  night. 

She  raised  her  hand,  all  thin  and  pale, 

And  said,  "  Kind  mother  dear, 
My  angel  said  he  would  not  fail 

To  bring  bright  flowers  here  ; 
And  when  alone  oft  look  on  them, 

For  I  shall  then  be  near, 
And  as  you  hold  each  little  stem, 

Your  troubled  thoughts  will  cheer." 

In  lonely  silence  now  each  day 

She  mourns  her  bitter  lot, 
And  though  rare  gifts  still  crowd  her  way, 

The  lost  is  ne'er  forgot. 
A  darksome  cloud  obscures  that  sky 

Which  once  seemed  bright  and  fair, 
And  summer  winds  breathe  forth  a  sigh, 

As  if  her  grief  to  share. 

But  in  life's  mingled  cup  is  known 
A  precious  heavenly  balm, 

Which  when  the  heart  is  sad  and  lone, 
With  soothing  power  can  charm ; 


A     SILENT    TOKEN.  169 

Blest  sunshine  then,  through  cheerless  gloom, 

Reveals  a  brighter  day, 
And  faith  beholds  beyond  the  tomb 

That  home  where  angels  stay. 


A    SILENT    TOKEN. 

THIS  friendly  sign 

I  soon  divine, 
Though  not  a  smile  be  seen, 

Or  kindly  word 

In  darkness  heard 
At  twilight  hour  serene. 

'T  is  sunshine  bright, 

Of  mellow  light, 
Which  shines  amid  the  gloom, 

And  warms  the  heart, 

With  magic  art, 
Nor  fades  in  coldness  soon. 

E'en  as  the  dew, 

Of  rainbow  hue, 
Soft  nestles  in  a  flower, 

On  two  lips  fair, 

It  resteth  there, 
As  in  a  perfumed  bower. 

'T  is  nectar  sweet, 

With  love  replete, 
Which  charms  the  passing  hours, 

Where  sweet  thoughts  stay 

Like  bees  in  May, 
Around  pure  fragrant  flowers. 


170  THOUGHTS     ON     THE     DEPARTED, 

It  seals  the  word 
Which  love  has  heard, 

With  sympathy  sincere ; 
And  sweetens  care, 
Though  pains  be  there, 

Or  e'en  a  falling  tear. 

Still  let  me  know 

The  bliss  below 
Which  loving  souls  can  feel, 

And  in  sweet  dreams 

Let  sunny  beams 
O'er  my  glad  spirits  steal. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  DEPARTED, 

I  THINK  of  the  dead  who  have  now  passed  away 
From  earth's  happy  scenes  which  they  once  made  so  gay, 
Whose  presence  glad  sunshine  diffused  all  around, 
Like  perfume  from  flowers  where  sorrow  was  found. 

I  think  of  the  dead  whose  hearts  were  so  true, 
In  silence  I  heard  e'en  their  last  sad  adieu, 
On  memory's  tablet  engraved  there  remain 
Most  excellent  things,  which  I  love  to  retain. 

I  will  not  forget  thee,  though  others  forget, 
Thy  virtues  like  jewels  conspicuous  are  set 
Round  the  heart's  best  affections  forever  to  shine, 
More  precious  than  rubies  deep  dug  from  the  mine, 

I  think  of  that  smile  which  bade  sorrow  depart,     . 
Like  a  cool  sombre  cloudlet  away  from  the  heart, 
Which  caused  e'en  the  fair  star  of  hope  to  shine  bright, 
Long  shrouded  in  gloom  as  with  curtains  of  night. 


ON    FRIENDSHIP.  171 

I  think  of  the  gifts  which  thy  hands  used  to  bring, 
As  if  thou  wert  borne  on  a  pure  angel's  wing, 
Rich  manna  from  Heaven  could  alike  glad  bestow 
The  sweet  satisfaction  I  once  used  to  know. 

I  cherished  each  word  as  it  fell  from  thy  tongue 

As  diamonds  drop  precious  rubies  among, 

So  laden  with  goodness  and  truth  was  each  tone 

That  sweet  music  was  heard,  though  but  one  spoke  alone. 

I  think  of  thy  confidence,  faith,  and  deep  love, 
In  those  glorious  things  that  are  treasured  above, 
How  eager  thou  grasped  round  that  bright  golden  chain, 
Which  helped  mortal  man  to  reach  heaven  again. 

The  thought  of  soon  meeting  those  loved  ones  who  sleep, 
Where  angels  attending  their  blest  vigils  keep, 
But  serves  to  ope  wider  the  bright  pearly  gate 
Where  pure  kindred  spirits  our  coming  await. 

I  think  of  the  dead,  and  I  will  not  forget, 
For  those  things  we  once  loved  are  realities  yet, 
Till  we  join  the  blest  throng  in  that  heavenly  home, 
Where,  united  forever,  we  no  more  shall  roam. 


ON    FRIENDSHIP. 

How  sweet  is  friendship  !  —  like  the  balm, 

Distilled  from  choicest  flowers, 
An  influence  like  a  heavenly  charm 

To  bless  the  fleeting  hours  ; 
Yes,  hours  passed  in  solitude, 

Where  darkness  reigns  around, 
Where  there  is  known  but  little  good, 

But  many  ills  are  found. 


172  ON    FRIENDSHIP. 

Still  let  me  often  hear  thy  voice, 

Which  gently  whispers  peace, 
And  let  my  troubled  heart  rejoice, 

And  strains  of  sadness  cease ; 
Still  speak  to  me  of  pleasant  things,  — 

Of  faith,  and  hope,  and  joy, 
Then  shall  I  rise  on  lightsome  wings, 

Where  pains  no  more  annoy. 

This  world  's  a  scene  of  woe  and  pain, 

And  everywhere  abound, 
And  often  o'er  the  flowery  plain 

The  brier  too  is  found  ; 
But  friendship's  hand  can  pluck  each  flower, 

And  put  the  thorns  aside. 
So  we  may  feel  its  cheering  power, 

When  days  of  ill  betide. 

It  gladly  fills  the  chalice  free, 

When  waters  cool  would  fail, 
And  bids  the  saddest  feelings  flee, 

When  foes  without  assail ; 
'T  is  welcome  while  in  blooming  health, 

'T  is  blest  in  sorrow's  night,  — 
Gives  comfort  more  than  sordid  wealth, 

Turns  darkness  into  light. 

Her  soothing  tones  with  peace  beguile 

The  weary  hours  of  pain, 
And  makes  the  lonely  sufferer  smile, 

And  joy  to  come  again. 
Like  voices  of  the  stilly  night, 

Glad  spirits  come  and  go  ; 
And  tell  of  things  in  visions  bright 

Which  dreams  reveal  below. 


ON    FRIENDSHIP.  173, 

Like  blessings  found  upon  the  earth, 

Fresh  from  our  Father's  hand, 
Her  gifts  proclaim  their  heavenly  birth, 

As  pearls  their  native  strand. 
True  friendship  is  a  precious  link, 

Cut  from  the  bond  of  love, 
And  binds  all  friendly  hearts,  we  think, 

To  the  pure  chain  above. 

Then  let  me  feel  its  magic  power, 

Whate'er  my  prospects  be, 
Kindly  as  dew-drops  kiss  the  flower, 

Or  moonbeams  gild  the  sea ; 
Then  shall  I  feel  thy  presence  near, 

Though  clouds  obscure  my  skies, 
And  no  more  lone,  dark  hours  fear, 

Till  heaven  shall  greet  mine  eyes. 

Then,  silent  in  my  darkened  room, 

This  thought  shall  give  me  peace, 
That  friendship's  hand  would  chase  the  gloom, 

And  give  me  sweet  release. 
But  though  I  wait  in  prison  long, 

Remembered  but  by  few, 
Though  I  ne'er  join  earth's  busy  throng, 

I  '11  gladly  think  of  you. 

On  memory's  tablet  e'er  remain 

All  kindly  words  I  hear, 
And  more  to  me  than  this  world's  gain 

Is  sincere  friendship's  tear. 
Sweet  sympathy  is  choicest  balm 

From  friendship's  fountain  given,  — 
Pure  incense  which  the  spirits  calm,  — 

The  precious  boon  of  heaven. 
12 


174  THE   SAINT'S   DESIRE. 


THE    SAINT'S    DESIRE. 

THY  Church  have  long  waited,  O  Lord,  thy  approach, 
'Mid  scorn  and  derision  and  constant  reproach, 
Yet  trusting  thy  promise,  unfailing  and  sure, 
They  eagerly  wish  their  best  hopes  to  secure. 

Like  prophets,  who  spoke  of  thy  coming  of  old, 
They  earnestly  long  that  the  scenes  they  foretold 
May  speedily  usher  the  dawn  of  that  day, 
For  which  they  have  suffered,  for  which  we  now  pray. 

The  earth's  gloomy  picture  of  sorrow  and  night 
Can  give  us  no  pleasure,  and  cause  no  delight ; 
We  look  for  that  day  with  its  glories  replete, 
When  saints  their  Redeemer  with  transport  shall  meet. 

They  wish  to  be  freed  from  the  evils  of  sin, 
From  foes  from  without,  from  temptations  within, 
To  seek  a  retreat  where  no  bondage  can  chain 
The  mind  to  distress  or  the  body  to  pain. 

They  long  e'er  to  dwell  where  the  olive  of  peace 
Shall  flourish  and  blossom  and  yield  its  increase ;  — 
Where  righteousness  shall  like  a  stream  overflow, 
An  emblem  to  all  of  its  fulness  to  show. 

Then  Zion  above,  with  its  wonders  sublime, 
Established  with  glory,  enduring  as  time, 
A  home  for  the  ransomed  will  surely  provide, 
Where  sources  of  happiness  ever  abide. 

Those  flowery  plains  with  their  beauties  so  rare, 
Diffusing  their  fragrance,  enchanting  the  air, 
Still  cheer  the  lone  pilgrim  amid  all  his  care, 
Who  often  with  weeping  now  longs  to  be  there. 


LINES      TO     A     FRIEND.  175 

The  promise  of  life,  where  no  sin  can  destroy 
His  unfailing  comfort  or  lessen  his  joy, 
Now  strengthens  his  heart  'mid  his  sadness  and  tears, 
Confirming  his  hopes  and  dispelling  his  fears. 

With  transport  we  hail  all  the  "  signs  "  which  precede 
That  day,  when  thy  captives  shall  ever  be  freed 
From  earth's  dreary  bondage,  to  reign  with  delight 
Where  glory  shall  crown  all  that  meets  the  glad  sight. 

Still  hoping,  expecting,  confiding  in  Thee, 

We  wait  thy  blest  coming  in  glory  to  see  : 

O,  rend  the  dark  curtain  that  hides  thee  from  sight, 

Appear  in  thy  majesty,  beauty,  and  might ! 


LINES, 

TO    A    FRIEND     ON     HER     BIRTHDAY, 

I  KNEW  a  maiden  young  and  gay, 
Who  used  to  wish  her  time  away,  — 
Who  looked  beyond  those  joyous  hours, 
Which  bloom  like  choicest,  sweetest  flowers, 
That  scattered  incense  o'er  life's  way, 
Replete  with  blessings  day  by  day, 
And  led  the  bounding  spirits  on 
To  grasp  new  joys  ere  old  were  gone ; 
Who  looked  beyond  those  sunny  days, 
Where  no  dark  cloud  e'er  hid  the  rays 
Of  golden  light,  which,  pure  and  rare, 
Then  gilded  all  things  bright  and  fair,  — 
When  angels  borne  on  wings  of  love 
.Brought  peaceful  tidings  from  above, 


176  LINES     TO     A     FRIEND. 

And  whispered  to  the  willing  ear 

Those  pleasant  tones  it  loved  to  hear, 

And  charmed  the  soul  with  secret  peace, 

Whose  blessed  memories  never  cease  ;  — 

Who  looked  beyond  the  bud  of  hope, 

For  brighter  prospects  to  spring  up, 

(Which,  if  it  fairer,  quicker  grew, 

Would  bear  the  stinging  brier,  too,) 

Whose  leaves,  if  they  should  chance  to  bloom, 

Might  fall  as  tears  around  its  tomb,     .,- 

All  fading  types  to  plainly  show 

Our  cherished  hopes  thus  fade  below ;  — 

Who  looked  adown  the  stream  of  life, 

When  come  the  cares  and  toils  and  strife, 

For  rarer  gems  of  love  and  truth 

Than  those  she  found  in  early  youth. 

Alas  !  how  time  fast  speeds  away, 
With  all  its  cares  from  day  to  day,  — 
With  all  its  joys  and  sorrows,  too, 
Whose  cup  when  drained  is  filled  anew 
With  mingled  contents,  white  and  red, 
Of  joys  that  live,  of  hopes  now  dead ; 
Like  sunshine  on  the  mountain-top 
We  see  it  now,  —  behold  !  't  is  not : 
While  dreary  shadows  show  that  day 
Has  rolled  its  golden  car  away  ; 
Though  dews  of  grief  should  freely  fall, 
Not  one  bright  beam  could  they  recall. 
We  gaze  upon  the  flowing  stream, 
A  thing  of  life,  —  no  idle  dream,  — 
Our  boats  are  launched  upon  its  wave, 
We  cannot  pause,  till  at  the  grave 
Our  joys  and  hopes,  our  smiles  and  tears, 
Our  sad  regrets,  our  gloomy  fears, 
Are  buried  in  that  boundless  sea, 
That  endless,  vast  eternity. 


"THY  WORD,   o   GOD,  is   PURE."       177 


THY    WORD,   0    GOD,  IS    PURE." 

THY  precious  word,  O  Lord,  is  pure, 

Thy  precepts  just  and  right, 
Thy  promises  forever  sure 

Shine  forth  with  holy  light. 
Like  diamonds  scattered  by  our  way, 

They  lure  our  footsteps  on,  — 
We  gain  new  treasures  day  by  day, 

Till  life's  last  goal  is  won. 

Gifts  from  thy  precious,  bounteous  store 

Must  need  be  wise  and  good, 
We  taste  and  gladly  ask  for  more, 

We  feast  on  angels'  food. 
Still  let  us  from  the  fountain  drink 

Of  living  waters  pure, 
Then  "faith  will  never  let  us  sink, 

But  peace  and  strength  secure. 

"  A  lamp  "  to  guide  our  erring  feet, 

"  A  light"  to  cheer  our  way, 
Such  signals  are  most  truly  meet, 

To  guard  us  lest  we  stray. 
Still  let  the  truth  more  brightly  shine 

Amid  surrounding  gloom, 
And  when  life's  hopes  and  joys  decline, 

Safe  light  us  through  the  tomb. 


178  FAKEWELL     TO     LAVINIA. 


FAREWELL    TO    LAVINIA. 

MUST  I  now  part  with  you  once  more, 

And  linger  on  in  pain  ? 
Must  thy  kind,  gentle  tones  no  more 

Delight  my  ear  again  ? 
Must  I  in  sadness  ever  pine 

For  friendship's  loving  hand 
To  kindly  smooth  my  thorny  path, 

Within  this  desert  land  ? 

Must  I  in  bondage  still  remain, 

My  name  almost  unknown, 
And  seldom  know  that  sympathy 

Which  cheers  me  like  thine  own  ? 
And  when  the  lonely  hours  pass 

So  wearily  away, 
Must  I,  as  if  for  crime,  be  chained    . 

In  darkness,  day  by  day  ? 

When  burdened  with  my  burning  pains, 

And  sad,  distressing  fears, 
When  in  deep  silence  secret  fall 

My  unknown,  bitter  tears, 
How  would  one  heartfelt  word  of  cheer 

The  bursting  clouds  dispel, 
And  bring  bright  sunshine  to  my  mind, 

My  troubled  thoughts  to  quell. 

Dear  friends  make  all  my  sunshine  here, 

In  sympathy  and  love, 
Transmitted  through  each  kindly  word, 

Eeflected  from  above. 


FAREWELL     TO     LAVINIA.  179 

I  welcome  every  gentle  tone, 

Upon  the  summer  breeze, 
And  list  if  I  perchance  can  hear 

Such  messages  as  these. 

Within  such  darkness,  still  and  drear, 

Who  would  not  feel  alone, 
When  chosen  friends,  like  angels  blest, 

Beyond  the  gloom  have  gone  ! 
I  list  in  vain  the  hurried  step 

Within  the  silent  hall, 
Which  came  to  bring  me  sweet  relief, 

Obedient  to  my  call. 

In  solitude  I  often  muse 

On  scenes  forever  past ; 
Too  pure  and  sacred  were  those  joys 

For  me  to  longer  last,  — 
When  music  lent  its  cheering  power 

To  chase  my  griefs  away, 
And  generous  deeds  and  joyous  hours 

Provoked  a  long  delay. 

Sweet  memories  linger  round  those  spots 

I  ne'er  shall  see  again, 
Each  picture,  though  most  truly  drawn, 

Could  not  reveal  a  stain, 
Contented,  peaceful,  happy,  all 

A  wreath  of  union  twined, 
Whose  living  flowers  so  perfect  were, 

Artists  ne'er  such  designed. 

But  ah  1  the  past,  the  bitter  past, 

Time  marks  its  changes  well, 
Each  stricken  soul,  in  sorrow  bowed, 

Its  own  sad  fate  can  tell. 


180  A    FRAGMENT. 

The  loved  have  gone,  the  dearly  loved, 
Because  both  good  and  true, 

And  left  us  here,  still  gazing  on 

Heaven's  gate  they  entered  through. 

With  patient  grace  and  humble  prayer, 

Still  let  us  journey  on. 
Marking  the  way  their  feet  have  trod 

Till  the  great  prize  is  won ; 
Then  on  that  peaceful  heavenly  shore 

Where  troubles  ne'er  annoy, 
May  we  meet  all  our  friends  again, 

With  everlasting  joy. 


A    FRAGMENT. 

INTO  my  soul' let  beams  of  light  e'er  come, 

On  which  descending  let  pure  thoughts  arrive, 

Like  holy  messengers  with  choicest  gifts, 

To  be  my  willing  guests,  forever  dear. 

Then  peace  shall  brood  in  quiet  o'er  my  heart, 

Like  as  a  snow-white  dove  above  her  nest 

Of  little  ones,  all  needing  tender  care ; 

And  consolations  sweet  shall  kindly  cheer, 

Like  choicest  odors  borne  on  evening  breeze, 

Or  spicy  gifts  from  Oriental  clime. 

Pure  thoughts  !  ye  blossoms  of  a  goodly  tree 

Transplanted  from  fair  Eden's  rosy  bowers, 

Smile  on  my  pathway,  through  earth's  changing  scene 

And  like  blest  angel  voices  cheer  me  on. 


TO     ANNETTE     ON    HER    BIRTHDAY.        181 


TO    ANNETTE    ON    HER    BIRTHDAY. 

ONCE  more  as  the  sun  with  his  rose-tinted  fingers, 
Opes  wide  his  blue  portals  on  time  which  still  lingers, 
I  think  of  thy  birthday,  a  porter  still  keeping 
A  watch  for  its  dawning,  for  joy  or  for  weeping. 

A  few  summers  have  bloomed  on  thy  pilgrimage  here, 
Like  dew-drops,  all  glistening  life's  morning  to  cheer ; 
Youth's  roses  may  fade,  and  its  beauties  decay, 
But  a  jewel  enshrined  in  its  casket  may  stay. 

Though  shadows  'mid  sunshine  may  sometimes  steal  on, 
Obscuring  the  peace  which  thy  virtues  have  won,  — 
Though  sorrows  may  sometimes  encompass  thy  way, 
Glad  spirits  will  banish  all  dark  clouds  away. 

This  life  is  a  garden,  where  flowers  oft  bloom 
But  to  drop  their  bright  petals  like  tears  o'er  our  tomb, 
Sweet  bonds  may  be  severed,  and  friends  may  depart, 
But  memory's  signet  will  live  in  the  heart. 

As  the  glistening  stars,  those  bright  gems  of  the  night, 
Gain  their  beauty  so  rare  from  the  great  source  of  light, 
Even  so  may  thy  virtues  conspicuously  shine, 
Like  gifts  freely  given  by  their  Author  divine. 

Raise  thy  standard  on  high  with  its  emblem  most  bright, 

Be  most  valiant  with  those    who   have   fought  the    "good 

fight," 
Then  blest  angels  shall  guide  through  earth's  sorrows  and 

strife, 
To  the  conqueror's  crown,  in  the  temple  of  life. 


182    THEN  LET  ME  HEAR  OF  HEAVEN. 


THEN  LET  ME  HEAR  OF  HEAVEN 

WHEN  clouds  of  sorrow  like  a  veil 

Obscure  life's  sunniest  skies, 
When  boisterous  winds  my  bark  assail, 

When  angry  waves  arise,  — 
When  tossed  amid  the  dashing  foam, 

My  hopes  are  almost  riven, 
When  crested  billows  speed  me  home, 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When  sailing  smoothly  o'er  the  tide, 

With  all  things  bright  above, 
With  chosen  friends  fast  by  my  side, 

Whose  hearts  are  warm  with  love,  — 
When  fortune  smiles  with  bounteous  hand, 

And  gifts  most  sweet  are  given, 
When  pleasures  come  at  my  command, 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When  comes  the  twilight  of  my  days, 

Where  light  and  darkness  blend, 
Then  may  I  catch  those  glorious  rays 

Towards  which  my  footsteps  tend; 
And  when  life's  golden  sands  are  few,  — 

When  close  the  gates  of  even, 
When  to  earth's  scenes  I  bid  adieu, 

Then  let  me  hear  of  heaven. 

When  free  from  every  earthly  ill, 

We  gain  the  heavenly  shore, 
Eternal  peace  our  hearts  shall  fill, 

Increasing  evermore. 


LINES     ON    MY    NEW    DRESSING-GOWN.      183 

Sweet  rest  within  the  pearly  gales 

And  joy  supreme  is  given, 
Where  for  the  weary  soul  awaits 

The  crowning  bliss  of  heaven. 


LINES    ON   MY   NEW   DRESSING-GOWN. 

MOST  welcome,  my  wrapper !  of  thee  I  have  need, 
For  friends  in  affliction  are  true  friends  indeed ; 
I  reckon  thee  such,  and  shall  speak  in  thy  praise, 
No  laurels  beside  will  now  crown  thy  young  days, 
For  when  thou  art  faded,  disfigured,  and  worn, 
Neglected,  you  then  will  be  left  all  alone. 
No  one  to  regret  thee,  no  one  to  lament 
Those  numerous  days  all  in  usefulness  spent, 
But  I  will  now  gladly  thy  best  rights  befriend, 
And  from  all  rude  assaults  now  thy  honor  defend, 
I  will  think  of  thee  now  in  thy  best  days,  and  then 
Can  speak  as  I  wish  of  thy  good  deeds  to  men, 
When  too  modest  and  bashful  in  quiet  you  '11  wait, 
Imploring  some  friend  all  thy  virtues  to  state. 

Thou  hast  come  to  me  now,  in  thy  fresh  new  array, 
Like  a  child  clean  attired  for  a  glad  holiday, 
To  be  my  companion,  'mid  sorrows  and  fears, 
Awake  to  my  sadness,  my  trials  and  tears ; 
Ah !  little  thou  thinkest,  the  long  weary  days 
To  be  passed  here  in  loneliness,  deaf  to  all  praise,  — 
And  the  long,  tedious  nights  to  be  spent  all  in  gloom, 
With  a  prisoner  in  darkness,  as  still  as  the  tomb ; 
Yes,  little  thou  dreamest  the  strength  of  the  chain 
Which  now  will  prevent  thy  old  freedom  again. 


184      LINES     ON    MY    NEW   DRESSING-GOWN. 

Unbidden,  you  are  joined  to  a  friend,  who  must  keep 
His  vigils  by  day,  while  in  quietness  sleep 
The  youthful,  the  aged,  the  gay,  and  the  bright, 
When  curtains  are  dropped  by  the  angels  at  night. 

***** 
Thou  art  my  attendant,  I  praise  thee  full  well, 
But  in  dreary  seclusion  too  long  thou  must  dwell, 
I  cherish  thy  goodness  by  night  and  by  day, 
And  boldly  will  speak  in  thy  favor  alway ; 
I  value  thy  fitness,  "  roan  kerseymere,". 
Above  finer  textures,  more  foreign  and  dear,  — 
How  nice  thou  art  wadded,  to  shield  me  from  cold, 
Wilt  thou  thus  be  cared  for,  when  you  become  old  ? 
Will  some  one  then  prize  thee  for  what  thou  hast  been, 
Though  living  in  secret,  apart  from  all  men  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  be  left,  as  a  thing  out  of  mind, 
And  be  suffered  unseen  thy  true  level  to  find  ?  . 

I  think  of  thy  size,  which  in  yards  have  been  told, 
How  ample  and  generous  thy  arms  soon  unfold 
To  grasp  me  in  friendship,  so  cosy  and  warm, 
That  I  cannot  feel  either  cold  or  alarm ; 
Not  forgetting  thy  color,  a  dark,  modest  gray, 
Just  suited  alike  both  to  darkness  and  day, 
E'en  the  blushes  now  fade  on  thy  sombre-like  cheek 
When  too  much  for  thee  in  thy  presence  I  speak, 
So  that  I  have  courage  to  tell  all  I  know, 
Not  shunning  thy  virtues  most  boldly  to  show. 

***** 
But  I  must  not  forget,  while  rhyming  for  thee, 
Her  who  introduced  thee  so  kindly  to  me, 
Whose  kind,  generous  hand  has  often  been  open 
In  Christian  affection,  with  many  a  token 
To  cheer  a  lone  watcher,  by  life's  ebbing  tide, 
When  help  seemed  departing  on  every  side, 
Affording  relief  in  the  time  of  his  need, 
Thus  making  his  pathway  much  smoother  indeed, 


LINES     ON     MY    NEW    DRESSING-GOWN.      185 

Bespeaking  for  him  a  kind,  friendly  word, 
Unnoticed  by  all,  and  but  by  One  heard, 
Who  sees  the  young  sparrow,  though  light  be  his  fall, 
And  takes  record  of  all  things,  the  great  and  the  small, 
Yes,  long  shall  I  think  of  thee,  dear  aunt  of  mine, 
Whose  good  deeds  hereafter  forever  will  shine, 
A  reward  for  thy  sympathy,  kindness,  and  love, 
Conspicuous  among  the  blest  angels  above. 

How  many  a  glad  day  have  we  passed  together 

In  friendship's  sweet  bonds,  which  no  stranger  could  sever, 

How  happy  the  hours  we  once  used  to  spend, 

Too  swiftly  they  flew,  for  their  joys  soon  would  end, 

And  when  evening  shades  with  their  quiet  drew  near, 

How  sweet  were  the  sounds  which  then  fell  on  the  ear, 

With  hearts  tuned  in  concert,  how  pure  was  each  tone 

While  each  made  the  pleasure  peculiar  his  own  ; 

Those  were  bright,  happy  days  we  shall  ne'er  see  again, 

Till  on  the  blest  shore  purer  joys  we  shall  gain. 

There,  sorrows  shall  cease  and  privations  be  o'er, 

And  pleasures  be  known  never  dreamed  of  before, 

No  sickness,  no  troubles,  no  pain  will  arise 

To  cast  a  dread  shade  o'er  those  calm,  cloudless  skies, 

No  need  of  protection  from  heat  or  from  cold, 

For  youth  never  fades,  nor  does  manhood  grow  old,  — 

Ecstatic  enjoyments,  and  that  without  end, 

Will  there  be  our  portion,  which  God  will  defend,  — 

Made  equal  to  angels,  their  joys  will  be  ours, 

As  gently  distilling  as  fragrance  from  flowers. 

Pure  garments  of  righteousness,  spotless  and  clean, 
On  glorified  bodies  will  there  e'er  be  seen, 
The  gifts  from  the  hands  of  the  heavenly  King, 
Who  bids  us  triumphant  his  praises  to  sing. 
There  Jesus  will  lead,  like  a  shepherd,  his  fold 
By  sweet  flowing  streamlets,  through  ages  untold, 


186  SNOW-FLAKES. 

Eevealing  his  glories  to  them  with  delight, 

And  blessing  with  all  that  can  gladden  the  sight,  — 

Unlocking  his  treasures,  imparting  his  stores, 

For  "  all  things  "  are  Christ's,  and  that  Saviour  is  yours. 


SNOW-FLAKES. 

STILL  falling,  falling,  falling  fast, 
These  messengers  have  come  at  last, 
All  floating  through  the  chilly  air, 
On  softest  pinions,  white  and  fair, 
Each  like  a  dove  with  downy  breast, 
High  fluttering  o'er  its  icy  nest. 

So  coming,  coming,  coming  still 
From  heaven  above,  rich  blessings  fill 
Life's  chalice  with  full  many  a  joy, 
Which  time's  cold  hand  can  ne'er  destroy, 
So  pure,  so  holy  at  their  birth, 
They  sweetly  charm  the  ills  of  earth. 

So,  gathered  round  our  toilsome  way, 
May  angel  footsteps  long  delay, 
To  cheer  a  weary,  burdened  heart, 
And  bid  the  saddest  clouds  depart,  — 
To  cause  the  soul  in  hours  of  night 
Behold  the  gleams  of  heavenly  light. 

Upon  my  heart,  when  lone  and  still, 
As  freely  may  pure  gifts  distil, 
Awakening  strains  of  perfect  peace, 
Whose  melody  shall  never  cease, 
Till  far  beyond  the  reach  of  time, 
They  swell  heaven's  harmony  sublime. 


NO,    NEVER     GIVE     UP.  187 


NO,    NEVER    GIVE    UP. 

No,  never  give  up,  while  the  land  "is  in  view, 
Though  stormy  thy  passage  through  life, 

Though  meagre  thy  fortune,  though  comforts  be  few, 
Endure  to  the  end  of  the  strife. 

No,  never  give  up,  for  the  sake  of  repose, 

Though  conflicts  be  sometimes  severe, 
No  rest  to  his  spirit  the  warrior  knows, 

Till  victory  banishes  fear. 

No,  never  give  up,  though  oft  cheerless  earth  seem, 

Though  storms  of  affliction  may  rise, 
For  soon  heaven's  bright  day  with  its  glory  shall  gleam, 

Revealing  blest  scenes  to  thine  eyes. 

No,  never  give  up  to  thy  foe  on  the  field, 

Though  valiant  and  strong  be  his  arm  ; 
The  enemy  soon  to  the  Christian  must  yield, 

Protected  through  grace  from  all  harm. 

No,  never  give  up,  though  the  contest  be  long, 

Thy  cause  is  the  cause  of  the  free ; 
Fight  manfully,  boldly,  then  sweeter  thy  song, 

Then  brighter  thy  laurels  will  be. 

Thy  Saviour  shall  aid  thee  in  time  of  distress, 

And  angels  administer  cheer, 
If  courage  should  fail  thee  when  troubles  oppress, 

Then  help  shall  be  specially  near. 

Then  never  give  up,  for  the  land  is  in  view, 

Life's  voyage  will  shortly  be  o'er, 
A  haven  of  rest  with  the  faithful  and  true 

Shall  be  joyfully  thine  evermore. 


188  THE     TWIN     SPIRITS. 


THE    TWIN    SPIRITS. 

WHEN  morn  with  rosy  fingers  first 

Her  portals  opened  wide, 
Through  which  the  messengers  of  light 

On  golden  pinions  glide  ; 
Within  the  shining  band  there  came 

Two  angel  forms  unseen, 
Commissioned  o'er  the  earth  to  roam, 

Each  like  a  fairy  queen. 

On  dewy  pavements  clean  and  pure, 

As  on  a  jewelled  sea, 
With  noiseless  steps,  in  sandals  light, 

They  danced  in  sportive  glee. 
Erelong  into  the  heart  they  flew, 

And  claimed  the  dwelling  fair, 
Before  deceit  its  walls  had  stained, 

Or  sin  had  trespassed  there. 

With  lips  of  purity  and  truth 

They  speak  of  heavenly  things, 
And  precious  treasures  ever  bear 

Upon  their  burdened  wings. 
Around  the  brow  of  innocence 

A  fragrant  wreath  they  twine, 
Upon  whose  leaves  the  dews  of  peace 

Like  brilliant  jewels  shine. 

They  set  their  seal  upon  each  heart, 
And  lock  blest  secrets  there, 

Where  sweetest  memories  lay  concealed, 
As  in  a  casket  fair. 


THE      TWIN      SPIRITS.  189 

With  kindly  words  they  charm  the  ear, 

Which  breathe  of  peace  and  love, 
And  scatter  perfume  in  their  way, 

Which  tenderest  thoughts  can  move. 

When  deep  affliction  wounds  the  heart, 

Oppressed  with  pains  and  cares, 
Then  peace  extracts  the  stinging  thorn, 

And  choicest  balm  prepares. 
She  fills  the  cup  of  life  with  joy, 

And  dries  the  sorrowing  tear, 
And  like  blest  sunshine,  warm  and  light, 

Dispels  the  clouds  of  fear. 

Peace  gently  folds  her  spotless  wings 

Above  the  troubled  breast, 
And  whispers  promises  divine, 

Which  soothe  the  soul  to  rest ; 
She  strikes  one  note  upon  her  lyre 

No  other  voice  can  sing, 
Which  makes  responses  in  the  heart 

Of  sweetest  echoing. 

As  sisters  fair,  joined  hand  in  hand, 

They  pause  at  Mercy's  gate, 
And  where  Contentment  spreads  her  board, 

They  at  her  table  wait. 
Sweet  flowerets  bloom  along  their  way, 

With  every  charm  replete, 
Which  cause  full  many  a  heart  to  bow 

In  homage  at  their  feet. 

Upon  her  tranquil,  queenly  brow 

Peace  plants  an  olive  wreath, 
And  in  her  sparkling  eyes  reveals 

A  well  of  joy  beneath. 
13 


190  AUTUMN     WINDS. 

Love  with  a  winning,  dimpled  smile 
Twines  garlands  round  her  head, 

And  weaves  within  the  myrtle  boughs 
The  roses  white  and  red. 

Peace  offers  with  a  generous  hand 

Her  precious  treasures  fair, 
And  counsels  with  a  gracious  voice 

Most  welcome  everywhere. 
With  blushing  face  and  quiet  step  . 

Love  plays  a  modest  part ; 
And  when  a  citadel  is  gained, 

She  proves  her  magic  art. 

Within  my  breast,  as  guardian  friends, 

May  they  content  abide, 
To  cheer  me  with  their  words  of  bliss, 

From  morn  till  eventide ; 
And  when  the  lamp  of  life  burns  low, 

And  dimly  lights  my  way, 
To  cheer  me  in  my  homeward  path 

May  these  blest  spirits  stay. 


AUTUMN    WINDS. 

AUTUMNAL  winds  with  plaintive  strains 

Disturb  the  trembling  leaves, 
Which  welcomed  on  the  verdant  plain 

Each  gentle  summer  breeze ; 
For  blushes  o'er  them  slowly  steal, 

When  their  cold  breath  comes  near, 
Which  all  their  wounded  pride  reveal, 

But  still  to  us  as  dear. 


AUTUMN    WINDS.  191 

As  the  low  murmurs  float  along 

O'er  meadow,  field,  and  wood, 
Each  bears  the  burden  of  a  song, 

In  quite  a  thoughtful  mood. 
Each  tender  form  then  bows  its  head, 

And  weeps  bright  tears  of  dew, 
Beneath  those  leafy  boughs  outspread 

Which  once  their  glory  knew. 

In  each  cool  wind  an  under-tone 

Long  vibrates  on  the  ear, 
Which  has  a  cadence  all  its  own, 

Distinct  and  ever  clear, 
Which  speaks  of  joys  forever  fled,  — 

Of  scenes  forever  past ; 
Time's  chariot  on  its  course  has  sped, 

'Neath  shadows  overcast. 

We  grieve  to  part  with  nature's  pride,  — 

Green  leaves  and  fragrant  flowers, 
Which  like  dear  friends  grew  near  our  side, 

To  cheer  the  summer  hours ;  — 
Those  halcyon  moments  gladly  spent 

In  childhood's  rosy  morn,  — 
Those  golden  links  to  memory  lent, 

Till  life's  last  sands  are  gone. 

And  yet  how  beautiful  they  seem 

To  court  the  frosty  air, 
As  if  they  found,  in  pleasing  dream, 

Some  fairy  dwelling  there, 
Whose  gentle  whispers  breathed  at  night, 

So  charm  with  secret  power, 
That  gorgeous  tints  speak  their  delight, 

When  dawns  the  morning  hour. 


192  IMPROMPTU. 

Though  hopes  may  fail  like  withered  leaves, 

And  dirge-like  music  float 
Upon  the  wings  of  every  breeze, 

With  many  a  solemn  note  ; 
Yet,  though  the  seasons  pass  away, 

And  mark  the  year's  decline, 
It  nearer  brings  the  perfect  day, 

Which  makes  heaven's  glories  thine. 


IMPROMPTU. 

THY  gentle  voice  falls  on  my  ear 
In  tones  so  soft,  so  sweet,  so  clear, 
Their  memory  now  my  spirit  quells 
Like  soothing  peals  from  vesper  bells. 
Then  stay,  sweet,  kindly  voices,  stay  ! 
From  early  morn  till  close  of  day,  — 
Be  my  good  angels,  whispering  peace, 
Nor  ever  let  thy  vigils  cease  ! 
Still  let  me  in  thy  influence  find  ;   . 

A  solace  for  the  sorrowing  mind,  — 
A  charm  throughout  my  darksome  day, 
To  wear  the  weary  hours  away. 
Thy  soothing  voice  still  let  me  hear 
In  mellow  tones,  distinct  and  clear,  — 
Thy  fairy  footsteps  in  the  hall, 
Precursor  to  thy  speedy  call,  — 
Thy  merry  laugh,  from  day  to  day, 
Which  drives  all  sadness  far  away,  — 
Thy  kindly  greeting  every  morn, 
Which  told  for  me  new  smiles  were  born, 


IMPROMPTU.  193 

Thy  parting  word  at  twilight  hour, 
When  pearly  dews  bedeck  each  flower, 
So  leave  a  blessing  pure  with  me, 
Though  neither  form  nor  face  I  see, 
Still  cheer  my  sadness  with  a  smile, 
And  let  this  thought  my  pains  beguile. 
***** 
If  incense  blushing  from  a  rose 
Can  lull  one  to  a  calm  repose, 
And  lead  one  forth  to  fragrant  bowers 
To  cull,  in  dreams,  the  fairest  flowers ; 
How  kindlier  far  the  voice  which  leads 
The  lone  one  through  the  daisy  meads,  — 
The  hand  which  plucks  the  mignonette 
And  clover  sweet,  with  dews  all  wet, 
With  mellow  gifts  from  orchard's  pride, 
Delicious  with  their  juicy  tide,  — 
Which  fills  one's  arms  with  sheaves  of  peace, 
All  burdened  with  their  rich  increase  ; 
How  better  far  the  heart  which  knows 
Compassion  for  the  sufferer's  woes, — 
And  charms  one's  mind  with  varied  store, 
So  that  one  fain  would  ask  for  more  ; 
Not  such  as  earth-born  delvers  seek 
In  jewels  from  their  deep  retreat, 
But  words  which  sympathy  bestows, 
Which  from  true  friendship  ever  flows, 
And  thoughts  which  cause  the  heart  to  burn 
With  gratitude,  —  the  soul's  return. 

For  friends  give  me  of  kindred  mind, 
Who  good  in  others'  pleasures  find, 
Who  ne'er  withhold  the  pitying  tear,  — 
If  but  such  depths  were  needed  here,  — 
Bringing  warm  sunshine  to  the  heart, 
From  which  all  care  must  soon  depart. 


194  TO     ALICE. 


TO    ALICE. 


YEARS  come  and  go 
Too  slow,  we  know, 

For  those  who  pine  in  sorrow ; 
The  strength  they  gain 
But  gives  fresh  pain 

And  trouble  for  the  morrow. 

Bright  blooming  youth, 

Too  true  forsooth, 
Expects  no  bitter  tears  ; 

Perhaps  't  is  well, 

No  foe  should  tell 
The  griefs  of  future  years. 

Like  rosy  morn, 

For  you  is  born 
A  year  with  prospects  bright ; 

May  trials  drear 

Ne'er  cause  one  tear, 
Nor  bring  a  gloomy  night. 

As  pearly  dews, 

With  rainbow  hues, 
Descend  on  flowerets  fair ; 

So  kindly  all 

May  blessings  fall 
On  one  not  used  to  care. 

As  waters  sure, 
Serene  and  pure, 


I 

195 


TO     ALICE. 

Alike  bless  great  and  small ; 
So  may  your  hand, 
With  friendship's  wand, 

Impart  good  gifts  to  all. 

As  diamonds  bright, 

With  liquid  light, 
Reflect  each  beauteous  ray  ; 

So  may  your  heart 

Its  grace  impart 
In  virtues  pure  as  they. 

Buoyant  and  free, 

With  girlhood's  glee, 
Enjoy  the  passing  hours ; 

Too  soon  you  '11  find 

Life's  sober  time, 
Not  merely  spent  'mid  flowers. 

May  sunshine  glad, 

Which  makes  none  sad, 
E'er  come  with  gentle  ray, 

And  hearts  that  love, 

Like  those  above, 
Within  thy  dwelling  stay. 

Improve  each  day, 

As  best  you  may, 
But  still  the  right  pursuing, 

And  gather  strength, 

To  meet  at  length, 
The  ills  to  life  accruing. 

With  patient  wings, 
Seek  heavenly  things, 


196  "I     WISH    I     WERE     A    BIRD.' 

Nor  find  your  peace  below  ; 
A  treasure  where 
Oft  tends  your  prayer, 

Your  strength  of  love  will  show. 

May  angel  bands 
Hear  thy  commands, 

And  willing  guests  abide ; 
And  on  thy  way, 
Through  life's  short  day, 

Encamp  on  every  side. 

The  heavenly  star, 

Which  shines  afar, 
Shall  guide  you  safely  home  ; 

Where  pains  and  fears, 

And  secret  tears, 
Nor  troubles  e'er  can  come. 

There  youth  ne'er  dies 

Nor  pleasure  flies, 
Where  friends  are  parted  never ; 

Immortal  bloom 

Beyond  the  tomb 
Is  constant,  fadeless  never. 


I    WISH    I    WERE    A    BIRD. 

I  WISH  I  were  a  little  bird, 

All  beautiful  and  bright, 
My  liquid  notes  most  sweet  and  pure 

Should  wake  the  morning  light ; 


"I    WISH    I    WERE     A    BIRD."  197 

When  sunbeams  chase  the  shadows  fast, 

From  flowery  vales  away, 
My  matins  I  would  blithely  sing 

To  charm  the  early  day. 

To  lonely  chambers  dark  and  still, 

Where  music  ne'er  is  heard, 
My  choicest  strains  I  there  would  sing, 

My  heart  with  pity  stirred ; 
Upon  each  warm  and  sunny  day, 

Close  by  the  window-seat, 
Beneath  the  leafy  bowers  oft 

My  lay  would  I  repeat. 

To  those  who  never  joyous  see 

The  rosy  morning  light, 
My  willing  tribute  should  be  given 

With  most  sincere  delight ; 
When  weary  hours  grow  long  with  pain, 

The  oftener  I  would  sing, 
And  try  some  cheering  gift  to  bring 

Upon  my  burdened  wing. 

To  lonely  hearts  all  desolate, 

Who  find  no  happy  hour, 
Nor  even  in  earth's  treasures  fair 

Can  see  one  beauteous  flower, 
Would  I  my  tenderest  strains  oft  pour 

Close  by  their  listening  ear, 
Till  to  their  quickened  souls  would  seem 

An  angel's  anthem  near. 

Then  shadows  now  which  needless  fall 

Upon  the  lone  and  weak, 
Should  yield  to  golden  sunshine  bright, 

Before  one  fleeting  week ; 


198  THE     MORNING     COMETH. 

Desponding  souls  should  quickly  rise, 
Their  hearts  with  pleasure  stirred, 

Because  they  only  heard  the  song 
Of  one  kind  little  bird! 


THE    MORNING    COMETH. 

THE  morning  cometh !  sweet  the  word 
Proclaimed  on  watchtower's  height, 

The  cheering  accent  now  is  heard, 
Soon  ends  this  dreary  night. 

For  us  the  sound  is  kindly  given 

To  chase  our  fears  away, 
And  soon  our  eyes  shall  view  that  heaven 

Where  reigns  eternal  day. 

The  morning  cometh !  echo  far 

The  welcome  tidings,  free  ! 
Though  night  may  boast  full  many  a  star, 

The  sun  must  rise  for  thee. 

The  morning  cometh !  joyful  note, 

How  blissful  is  the  sound  ; 
On  fragrant  breezes  may  it  float 

This  groaning  earth  around. 

Let  every  captive  lend  an  ear, 

Who  toils  beneath  his  load ; 
Let  every  soul  the  message  hear, 

And  choose  the  heavenly  road, 


THE    MORNING     COMETH.  199 

As  oft  our  highest  joys  we  gain 

Through  grief  and  bitter  tears, 
So  dreary  night  on  earth  must  reign 

Before  the  morn  appears. 

But  sin  has  reigned  a  tyrant  long, 

And  we  have  felt  its  power ; 
Its  gloomy  bands,  though  forged  and  strong, 

Must  vanish  in  an  hour. 

How  great  the  change,  when  day  shall  gleam, 

Perpetual,  glorious,  bright ; 
An  emblem  fair  each  ray  will  seem 

Of  beauty  and  delight. 

Thy  warfare,  Christian,  soon  will  end, 

Thy  race  will  soon  be  o'er ; 
God  will  thy  constant  peace  defend, 

Where  tears  shall  fall  no  more. 

The  morning  cometh !  saints  rejoice  ! 

The  "  dead  in  Christ "  shall  rise, 
And  welcome  with  angelic  voice 

Their  Saviour  in  the  skies. 

Eedeemed  from  all  that  can  destroy 

Their  holy,  heavenly  peace, 
Pure  praises  shall  their  songs  employ,  — 

Their  transport  never  cease. 

Haste,  Lord  !  that  promised  glorious  morn, 

Attend  thy  children's  cry ! 
And  let  refulgent  glory  dawn 

Across  the  eastern  sky. 


200  THE     SUMMER    RAIN. 

Confirm  our  hopes,  entrance  our  eyes 
With  but  a  glimpse  of  Thee  ! 

Then  would  our  ransomed  bodies  rise 
When  we  thy  face  shall  see. 

Enraptured  with  thy  presence,  Lord ! 

We  at  thy  feet  would  fall, 
And  feast  delighted  on  each  word, 

And  claim  Thee  "  all  in  all." 

But  patiently  we  still  would  wait, 
Till  thy  own  time  shall  come  ; 

Then  through  thy  mercy,  free  and  great, 
The  "  victory  "  will  be  won. 


THE    SUMMER    RAIN. 


ON  trembling  leaves  and  opening  buds 

The  bounteous  rain  descends, 
And  with  soft  murmurs  through  the  woods 

Sweet  pensive  music  blends. 

The  meadows,  lawns,  and  lovely  vales 

In  livelier  robes  are  seen 
To  smile  content  on  all  around, 

And  boast  their  fairy  sheen. 

Those  flowers  which  languished  on  the  plain, 
And  hung  their  drooping  heads, 

Now  with  a  conscious  vigor  bloom 
With  brighter  leaves  outspread. 


THE     SUMMER    RAIN.  201 

The  little  rill  which  slowly  ran 

Adown  the  sloping  hill 
Now  quicker  speeds  its  headlong  course, 

Its  mission  to  fulfil. 

The  trees  a  cooling  freshness  give 

To  the  soft  balmy  air, 
While  sunny  skies  through  fleecy  clouds 

Smile  on  the  scene  most  fair. 

The  bubbling  brooks  now  quickly  pour 

Their  well-filled  stores  along 
To  do  their  office  at  the  mill, 

And  swell  the  laborers'  song. 

The  violets  on  their  tender  stems 

Receive  the  precious  boon, 
Which  bounteous  heaven  thus  kind  bestows 

Lest  they  should  fail  too  soon. 

Fresh  roses  ope  their  petals  wide 

To  drink  the  blessing  in, 
While  dew-drops  linger  on  their  stems, 

Pure  as  the  balm  within. 

Fair  daisies  on  the  mossy  banks 

With  purest  light  are  crowned, 
While  silver  leaves  and  beaded  twigs 

On  every  hand  are  found. 

0 

So  let  created  nature  boast 

To  show  a  fairer  face, 
And  open  new  her  fruitful  stores 

In  every  lovely  face. 


202  CONSOLING    PROMISE. 


CONSOLING    PROMISE. 

"  And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes  ;  and  there 
shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there 
be  any  more  pain  :  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away."  — 
EEV.  xxi.  4. 

THRICE  happy  that  expected  day, 

When  sorrows  shall  be  o'er, 
When  earth-born  trials  flee  away, 

And  tears  be  shed  no  more. 

While  here  we  dwell,  though  blessings  flow 

Profusely  in  our  way,  — 
And  on  our  hearts  their  charms  bestow, 

Throughout  life's  fleeting  day,  — 

Yet  troubles  like  the  thorn  oft  springs 

To  mar  our  transient  joy ; 
And  unseen  evils  sadly  bring, 

Which  cause  us  more  annoy. 

No  constant,  true,  abiding  peace 

Is  promised  long  below, 
Nor  will  our  souls  find  sweet  release 

While  sin  remains  our  foe. 

Nor  is  there  one  confiding  soul, 

Whate'er  his  joys  may  be, 
Who  can  his  destiny  control, 

And  bid  all  sorrows  flee. 

Through  tribulation's  thorny  way 

The  gate  is  often  found, 
To  those  blest  scenes  where  angels  stay, 

And  feast  on  holy  ground. 


CONSOLING    PROMISE.  203 

There  Christians  find,  with  humble  hearts, 

Sweet  converse  with  their  Lord, 
And  learn  what  naught  but  grace  imparts, 

True  knowledge  of  his  word. 

Christ,  the  forerunner  for  our  good, 

Victorious  led  the  way 
Through  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  flood, 

To  realms  of  brighter  day. 

He  felt  the  world's  opposing  scorn, 

And  knew  the  priests'  disdain, 
With  grief  He  wandered,  oft  forlorn, 

And  suffered  every  pain. 

If  then  as  "  children"  we  obey 

His  ever-gracious  voice, 
He  soon  will  wipe  our  tears  away, 

And  bid  us  e'er  rejoice. 

We  then  shall  share  His  constant  love, 

Exempt  from  every  pain, 
And  all  enrapturing  pleasures  prove,  — 

A  great  eternal  gain. 

A  "  recompense  "  we  then  shall  find 

For  every  earthly  ill, 
And  know  in  truth  that  God  designed 

His  glory  to  fulfil. 

Faith,  grace,  and  patience,  Lord  !  impart 

To  each  afflicted  one, 
That  he  may  wait  with  cheerful  heart 

Till  thou,  his  hope,  shall  come. 


204      PARTING   WITH    CHRISTIAN   FRIENDS. 


PARTING  WITH   CHRISTIAN   FRIENDS. 

WHEN  with  dear  friends  we  have  to  part, 
What  chilling  sadness  fills  the  heart, 
Too  deep  for  tears  or  sighs  to  show, 
And  only  felt  by  those  who  know 
The  bonds  of  love  which  God  has  given 
On  earth,  to  be  confirmed  in  heaven. 

If  such  affection  then  may  reign 
In  those  who  humbly  dare  to  claim 
An  heirship  to  the  heavenly  throne,  — 
A  glorious  kingdom  for  their  own, 
How  sad  the  last  kind  words  appear, 
How  doubly  sad  the  silent  tear 

No  parting  word  will  need  be  given 
By  those  who  share  the  bliss  of  heaven, 
Nor  absence  ever  be  deplored 
When  Eden  blest  shall  be  restored. 
But  in  each  other's  presence  blest 
Our  happy  souls  will  find  sweet  rest. 

O,  let  the  glorious  day  draw  nigh 
When  every  fear  and  every  sigh,  — 
When  every  farewell  tear  shall  cease,  — 
Our  hearts  enjoy  perpetual  peace  ! 
Then  on  the  promised  heavenly  shore 
Our  songs  of  praise  shall  fail  no  more. 

Soon  may  we  on  fair  Salem's  ground, 
With  all  the  ransomed  throng  be  found,  — 
With  them  to  view  the  better  land, 
Richly  adorned  by  God's  own  hand, 
With  crystal  streams  and  valleys  bright, 
And  all  things  which  can  give  delight. 


CONFIDENCE     IN     GOD.  205 

Victorious  over  every  foe, 
No  more  shall  they  sad  bondage  know, 
Their  peace  no  cares  shall  e'er  annoy, 
Their  cheering  hopes  no  power  destroy ; 
Transcendent  joys  shall  e'er  await 
Each  soul  that  enters  Zion's  gate. 

No  unbelief  shall  there  disturb 

The  soul  reposing  in  the  Lord ; 

Each  wondrous  scene  shall  then  conspire 

To  keep  alive  the  holy  fire, 

Uniting  hearts  in  perfect  love, 

Enduring  as  the  throne  above. 


CONFIDENCE    IN    GOD. 

"  Behold,  as  the  eyes  of  servants  look  unto  the  hand  of  their  mas 
ters,  and  as  the  eyes  of  a  maiden  unto  the  hand  of  her  mistress ;  so 
our  eyes  wait  upon  the  Lord  our  God,  until  that  he  have  mercy 
upon  us."  — PSALM  cxxiii.  2. 

As  servants  watch  their  master's  hand, 

To  know  his  fondest  will, 
So  would  we  wait  at  thy  command, 

Each  mandate  to  fulfil. 

Not  with  a  dread  and  slavish  fear, 

Would  we  thus  seek  thy  face  ; 
Our  waiting  souls  would  gladly  hear 

Thy  messages  of  grace. 

We  ask  for  mercy,  and  our  eyes 
Look  for  a  sign  from  thee ; 
14 


206  CONFIDENCE    IN     GOD. 

The  gift  is  free,  thou  bid'st  us  rise, 
And  all  our  sorrows  flee. 

E'er  watchful  for  the  Spirit's  voice, 

We  would  each  call  obey, 
To  do  thy  will  would  be  our  choice, 

Our  chief  delight  each  day. 

Thy  promise  makes  our  tasks  most  light, 
Thy  counsels  give  us  joy, 

And  every  day  seems  always  bright, 
When  spent  in  thy  employ. 

Prostrate  before  our  Master's  feet, 

Submissive  to  his  will, 
We  gladly  stay,  and  love  to  meet 

To  keep  his  precepts  still. 

He  feeds  our  longing  souls  anew, 

He  gives  us  angels'  food ; 
The  great  supply  he  bids  us  view, 

And  leave  inferior  good. 

We  wait  and  feast,  like  friends  we  fare ; 

No  strangers  here  abide, 
His  humble  followers  subjects  are, 

Who  tarry  at  his  side. 

As  "  sons"  he  greets  them,  kindred  dear, 
No  aliens  here  are  known, 

As  servants  they  no  more  appear, 
Their  birthright  now  is  shown. 

Approved  as  "  children,"  we  would  share 
Our  Father's  smiles  below, 

That  soon  with  triumph  we  may  wear 
That  crown  he  will  bestow. 


AFFLICTIONS.  207 


AFFLICTIONS. 

AFFLICTIONS  sent  by  God's  command 

Are  messengers  of  love, 
They  bid  us  view  the  chastening  hand, 

And  set  our  hearts  above. 

They  bid  us  leave  our  wandering  ways, 

Our  all  in  him  confide, 
That  we  may  all  our  future  days 

In  constant  trust  abide. 

'T  is  thus  the  Father  shows  his  care 

For  all  his  sons  below, 
For  no  true  blessings  would  he  spare, 

To  save  from  death  and  woe. 

He  seeks  our  good,  our  greatest  peace, 
And  unknown  bliss  intends, 

He  bids  from  sinful  pleasures  cease, 
And  take  the  gifts  he  sends. 

Though  present  hopes  and  comforts  flee 

Like  early  dew  away, 
Far  greater  joys  we  soon  shall  see, 

When  dawns  the  promised  day. 

Eternal  peace  and  joy  shall  crown 
Each  humble,  contrite  heart ; 

God  will  with  love  each  soul  surround, 
And  bid  all  grief  depart. 


208  HYMN.. 


HYMN. 

O,  GLORIOUS  day  of  heavenly  rest, 

We  hail  each  sign  of  thee, 
With  eager  hearts  arid  longing  eyes, 

We  wait  thy  dawn  to  see. 
Tlio.se  gilded  rays  of  glorious  lig'it, 

Resplendent  as  the  sun, 
Must  soon  to  every  eye  make  known 

The  holy  coming  One. 

With  cheerful  hope  and  earnest  prayers, 

Still  trusting  in  thy  word, 
We  long  to  see  the  eastern  skies 

Reveal  thy  advent,  Lord  ! 
Then  would  our  waiting  souls  rejoice, 

Could  we  thy  face  behold, 
In  ages  of  triumphant  bliss, 

Our  joy  could  ne'er  be  told. 

O,  blissful  day  of  promise  blest, 

We  long  to  share  thy  peace, 
When  pain  and  every  ill  shall  end, 

And  pleasures  never  cease,  — 
When  rapturous  joy,  like  holy  fire 

Shall  swell  our  song  of  praise, 
And  every  wondering,  grateful  heart 

Extol  thy  work  of  grace. 

Redeemed  beyond  the  reach  of  sin, 

Victorious  o'er  the  grave, 
The  ransomed  shall  with  angel  tongues 

Adore  thy  power  to  save. 


A     SPRING     MORNING.  209 

Thy  wondrous  love  shall  keep  each  heart 

In  sweetest  union  bound, 
And  naught  shall  ever  cause  a  tear, 

For  grief  will  ne'er  be  found. 

Their  crowns  of  glory  gemmed  with  light, 

The  gifts  from  Christ's  own  hand, 
Shall  every  princely  saint  adorn, 

Within  the  promised  land. 
To  golden  lyres  each  voice  shall  tune 

An  anthem  sweet  and  long,  — 
"  To  Christ,  who  saved  us  by  his  blood 

All  glory  shall  belong." 

O,  glorious  day,  with  haste  draw  near, 

For  we  would  share  thy  rest ; 
We  long,  from  every  evil  freed, 

To  be  supremely  blest. 
O,  shed  thy  beams  of  glory  forth, 

Dispel  this  gloomy  night, 
And  let  the  earth,  renewed,  rejoice 

To  see  thy  welcome  light. 


A    STRING    MORNING 

How  cheering  to  the  care-worn  heart 
To  view  the  gladsome  spring! 

When  nature  in  sweet  harmony 
Can  her  new  anthems  sing. 

The  earth  so  long  iti  ermine,  drest, 
Puts  on  her  robes  of  green, 

That  she  may  in  her  fresh  attire 
Now  grace  a  lovelier  scene. 


210  A    SPRING    MORNING. 

Gay  flowers  bloom  along  the  way 
In  which  we  thoughtful  roam, 

And  charm  our  eyes  with  visions  bright, 
Foretelling  scenes  to  come. 

The  warbling  birds  on  every  tree 
Attune  their  little  throats, 

And  stir  sweet  chords  in  every  heart 
Which  lists  their  welcome  notes. 

Kefreshing  odors  fill  the  air 
From  all  the  blooming  trees, 

Which  freely  yield  their  perfumed  gifts 
To  the  soft  whispering  breeze. 

Let  man  awake  and  view  such  scenes, 
Which  free  to  all  are  given, 

Nor  lose  in  drowsy  hours  such  joys,  — 
The  kindly  gifts  of  heaven. 

'T  is  for  the  happiness  of  all 
That  birds  with  soaring  wing, 

Their  anthems  pour  in  accents  pure, 
Their  sweetest  tributes  bring. 

'T  is  for  the  eye  of  every  one 
The  fields  and  fragrant  bowers 

Are  in  their  richest  garments  drest, 
To  charm  such  holy  hours. 

Then  let  us  all  these  gifts  enjoy, 

With  cheerful  gratitude, 
And  warmly  praise  their  Maker,  God, 

In  accents  oft  renewed. 


LINES    FOR    A    FRIEND'S     ALBUM.  211 


LINES   FOR  A  FRIEND'S   ALBUM, 

As  on  this  spotless  page  I  write 
Some  hasty  lines  to  greet  thy  sight, 
I  would  thy  life  might  ever  be 
From  every  stain  and  blemish  free, — 
That  vain  deceit  and  selfish  aim 
Might  ne'er  obscure  thy  honored  name,  — 
That  generous  deeds  like  valued  store 
Might  e'er  bespeak  thy  praise  the  more. 
I  would  each  Christian  grace  might  there 
Conspicuous  shine,  with  rays  most  rare, 
Like  brilliant  gems,  all  sparkling,  bright, 
Reflected  from  the  source  of  light, 
Fair  as  each  rainbow-tinted  hue, 
Transmitted  through  the  pearly  dew. 

I  would  that  wisdom  there  might  dwell, 
As  in  a  chosen  fairy  cell, 
From  whence,  as  from  a  casket  bright, 
Pure  thoughts  like  jewels  may  delight, 
And  words  more  prized  than  rubies  rare 
Ne'er  fail  in  gentle  tones  to  bear 
Sweet  counsels  to  the  erring,  here, 
As  balm  to  chase  each  bitter  tear. 

Let  all  thy  words  be  dipped  in  truth, 
To  cheer  the  old,  to  charm  the  youth, 
Or  like  the  fragrant  blossoms  spread 
Sweet  influence  round  the  sufferer's  head  ; 
To  soothe  the  anguish  of  their  mind, 
Who  no  relief  nor  joy  can  find  ; 


212  TO     A     FRIEND. 

Or  like  blest  angels  let  them  bring 
Glad  news  to  make  the  cheerless  sin«- 

O 

Of  peace  and  joy  and  rest  to  come, 
The  "  earnest "  of  their  "  better  home." 
Then  virtue,  an  unfailing  wreath, 
With  lasting  honors  shall  bequeath, 
And  friends  be  pleased  to  share  the  fame 
Eecorded  for  thy  own  fair  name. 
Then  deeds  of  love  and  friendship,  too, 
Shall  speak  the  praise  that  would  be  due 
To  one  whose  life  would  always  be 
A  type  of  truth  and  purity, 
Whose  light  shall  set  nor  fade  away, 
Till  bright  shall  dawn  the  heavenly  day. 


TO    A    FRIEND. 

As  twilight  fades  upon  the  west, 

And  zephyrs  yield  their  rich  bequest 

Of  odors  to  the  evening  air, 

From  leaflets  and  from  flowerets  fair ; 

So  may  fresh  incense  for  you  rise, 

When  time  shall  shade  your  future  skies, 

To  soothe  with  peace  those  future  years 

When  strength  grows  weak  'mid  hopes  and  fears. 

As  tendrils  of  the  running  vine 

Around  the  oak  their  grasp  entwine, 

To  find  support  to  rise  on  high, 

As  if  to  seek  the  fair  blue  sky ; 

So  may  your  hopes  like  ivy  cling 

To  truth,  a  constant  peace  to  bring, 

And  bid  your  faith  seek  clearer  skies 

Where  joy  fails  not,  —  where  sorrow  dies. 


CHRISTIAN   PILGRIM 

As  gently  as  the  evening  breeze 

Soft  whispers  through  the  murmuring  trees,  — 

As  calmly  as  the  crystal  tide 

Kisses  the  pebbles  by  its  side, 

In  all  your  ways  appear  to  all, 

Nor  shun  the  weak  when  once  they  fall, 

But  flowers  scatter  in  their  way, 

And  cheer  their  hearts,  as  best  you  may. 


CHRISTIAN   PILGRIM'S   EXPECTATION. 

WHILE  dark  and  ever-changing  scenes 

Beset  the  weary  pilgrim's  way, 
How  joyful  does  he  hail  the  gleams 

Of  heavenly  light  bespeaking  day. 

When  in  deep  trials  oft  he  meets 
With  sad  affliction's  withering  hand, 

His  burdened  soul  with  rapture  greets 
Each  token  of  the  promised  land. 

By  faith  he  views  his  sufferings  o'er, 
And  all  his  weary  wanderings  cease  ; 

While  prospects  bright'ning  more  and  more, 
Shall  welcome  him  to  endless  peace. 

Fair  Eden's  bowers  appear  in  bloom, 
Which  blossom  ne'er  to  fade  away ; 

Whose  tinted  flowers  of  rich  perfume 
Shall  live  throughout  eternal  day. 


214  BE     STEADFAST. 

No  "  pricking  brier  nor  grieving  thorn  " 
Shall  more  afflict  fair  Zion's  sons  ; 

The  sacred,  blest,  sabbatic  morn 

Shall  bring  release  to  ransomed  ones. 

All  tears  will  then  be  wiped  away, 

Sickness  and  death  be  known  no  more, 

Angelic  beauty  ne'er  decay, 

And  gladness  reign  forevermore. 

Then  shall  the  earth  renewed  rejoice 
That  "  former  things  "  have  passed  away 

And  groaning  Nature's  stifled  voice 
Shall  hail  the  long-expected  day. 

In  expectation  still  we  wait 

For  Zion's  favored  time  to  come ; 

When  saints  shall  claim  their  priestly  state, 
And  Christ  shall  reign  on  David's  throne. 


BE    STEADFAST. 

BE  steadfast,  when  faith  soars  majestic  and  free, 
And  gains  the  blest  world  of  delight, 

When  carnal  allurements  and  temptations  flee, 
And  earth  fades  away  from  the  sight. 

Then  hope  like  an  anchor  holds  steady  and  sure, 
Though  tempests  and  storms  may  arise ; 

The  passage  is  certain,  the  harbor  secure, 
The  prospect,  —  how  blest  to  our  eyes ! 


THE     VOICE    OF   THE    SHEPHERD.  215 

These  holy  enjoyments  are  treasures  to  all, 
When  grace  reigns  supreme  in  the  heart, 

Though  dark  clouds  may  gather,  and  dangers  appall, 
True  comfort  will  not  then  depart. 

Be  steadfast !  though  darkness  prevails  o'er  thy  way, 

Though  grieved  in  adversity's  night. 
Behind  the  dark  curtain  which  hides  thee  from  day 

Are  regions  of  heavenly  light. 

Though  doubts  may  oppress  thee,  and  cause  thee  to  fear, 

"  Be  steadfast,"  and  "hope  to  the  end," 
When  deepest  thy  sorrows,  then  Jesus  is  near, 

With  promise  and  grace  to  defend. 


THE    VOICE    OF    THE    SHEPHERD, 

THE  voice  of  the  Shepherd  speaks  kindly  to  me, 
Though  in  the  thick  darkness  no  bright  form  I  see, 
His  accents  are  laden  with  mercy  and  love, 
Melodiously  sweet  as  the  music  above. 

When  in  the  dark  valley  of  sadness  I  roam, 
Afflicted,  desponding,  away  from  my  home, 
I  list  'mid  the  stillness  those  glad  tones  to  hear, 
Which  strengthens  my  heart,  and  dispels  every  fear. 

While  here  a  lone  traveller  'mid  sorrows  and  fears, 
Whose  burden  is  known  by  the  measure  of  years, 
A  message  most  welcome  is  whispered  to  me, 
"  The  King  in  his  beauty  "  thine  own  eye  shall  see. 


216  "I    WILL     COME    AGAIN." 

What  though  fairest  flowers  are  now  hid  from  my  view, 
And  green  meadows  all  sparkling  with  pure  crystal  dew, 
Or  beautiful  landscapes  afford  no  delight 
While  their  multiplied  charms  are  all  veiled  from  my  sight ! 

What  though  gorgeous  sunsets  fade  slowly  away, 
Like  the  kind  parting  smile  of  a  fair  summer  day, 
And  the  curtains  of  night  overshadow  the  earth, 
Embroidered  with  gems,  as  when  first  it  had  birth ! 

'T  is  not  for  my  joy  that  the  bright  sunshine 'gleams, 
Nor  the  moon's  silver  lips  kiss  the  valleys  and  streams, 
But  in  the  deep  silence  my  faith  can  behold 
The  home  of  the  blest,  where  new  beauties  unfold. 

In  that  fair  "  better  land,"  where  the  ransomed  shall  dwell, 
Shall  new  glories  celestial  all  shadows  dispel, 
And  the  voice  of  the  Shepherd  enrapture  the  soul, 
While  ages  on  ages  unceasingly  roll. 


"I    WILL    COME    AGAIN." 

(John  xiv.  3.) 

THE  word  is  spoken  unto  hearts 
Deeply  oppressed  with  bitter  grief; 

Though  consolation  it  imparts, 

Their  burdened  souls  find  no  relief; 

They  dare  not  think  their  Lord  must  go, 

And  leave  them  orphanized  below. 

They  hear  their  Master's  lovely  voice, 
They  see  his  smiles,  they  learn  his  ways,' 


"I    WILL     COME    AGAIN."  217 

In  all  his  promises  rejoice,  — 

To  him  repeat  their  songs  of  praise  ; 
Their  happiness  knows  no  alloy, 
While  his  great  love  their  thoughts  employ . 

If  then  their  pious  hearts  declared 

Their  zealous  love  for  one  so  dear, 
Who  always  in  their  trials  shared, 

And  shed  for  them  the  pitying  tear, 
No  wonder  that  with  sad  dismay 
They  welcomed  not  the  parting  day. 

Sweet  consolation  yet  remains, 

A  heavenly  balm  for  all  their  tears, 
Jesus  for  them  his  love  proclaims, 

And  quickly  quiets  all  their  fears  : 
"  I  go  blest  mansions  to  prepare, 
That  you  may  in  my  glory  share. 

"  I  go  that  I  may  quickly  send 

The  promised  blessing  from  above, 
To  guide  your  ways  till  time  shall  end, 

In  token  of  my  constant  love ; 
And  soon  I  will  return  again, 
To  introduce  my  glorious  reign. 

"  Predicted  '  signs '  must  first  appear, 

Alike  in  sun,  in  moon,  in  stars ; 
Men's  hearts  will  fail  for  gloomy  fear, 

1'eholding  earthquakes,  famines,  wars  ; 
O'er  all  the  earth  there  then  will  be 
Distress,  with  sad  perplexity. 

"  When  scorners  walk  in  open  day, 

And  curse  your  humble,  fervent  prayer,  — 

When  scoffers  in  their  boldness  say, 
*  Where  is  his  faithful  promise,  where  ?  ' 


218  TO     OCTAVIA. 

Then  lift  your  heads  with  joy  on  high, 
For  your  redemption  draweth  nigh." 

Thus  did  the  little  flock  expect 

Once  more  to  see  their  blessed  Lord ; 

Oft  on  this  truth  did  they  reflect, 
Confiding  in  his  promised  word, 

Their  eager  hearts  hoped  every  year 

To  see  the  last  great  "  sign  "  appear. 

And  Israel's  faith  yet  falters  not, 

Though  sceptics  laugh  on  every  side, 

They  know  their  Lord  has  not  forgot 
His  word,  which  ever  must  abide ; 

Though  heaven  and  earth  should  even  fail, 

The  truth  is  great,  and  must  prevail. 

In  thee,  O  Lord  !  we  will  confide, 

Though  tempting  foes  invade  our  peace, 

May  living  faith  in  us  abide, 
A  holy  boldness  to  increase, 

So  that  our  hearts  may  still  exclaim, 

0  "  come,  Lord  Jesus ! "  "  come  again." 


TO    OCTAVIA. 

As  fragrant  flowers  oft  are  twined 
In  graceful  chaplets  for  the  free, 

E'en  so  may  virtue  ever  wreathe 
A  fadeless  crown  more  fit  for  thee. 

As  lilies  decked  in  snowy  dress 
Unrivalled  boast  their  pure  attire, 


TO     OCTAVIA.  219 


So  in  still  purer  loveliness 
May  we  thy  graces  more  admire. 

On  thee  may  choicest  blessings  smile, 
And  all  thy  paths  be  strewed  with  flowers. 

May  friendship's  voice  each  care  beguile, 
Like  balmy  winds  from  orange  bowers. 


On  thy  fair  brow  may  peace  enthrone 
Herself  a  conqueror  o'er  the  heart, 

While  generous  feelings,  all  thine  own, 
Shall  to  thy  life  fresh  joys  impart. 

And  when  earth's  giddy  scenes  invite 
Thee,  with  a  specious  tempting  voice, 

Then  may  it  be  your  great  delight 

To  make  the  paths  of  truth  your  choice. 

For  those  but  give  us  fleeting  joys, 
Which  often  cause  us  bitter  pain  ; 

But  these  true  peace,  which  never  cloys, 
And  leads  to  an  eternal  gain. 

May  thy  sweet  voice  like  music,  cheer 
Those  who  are  held  by  sorrow's  chain, 

Dispelling  every  gloomy  fear, 

And  soothing  each  unwelcome  pain. 

Now,  while  the  star  of  life  is  bright, 
And  earthly  hopes  inspire  thy  breast, 

May  heavenly  scenes  attract  thy  sight, 
And  be  thy  lot  the  promised  rest. 


220  THE     SOUL'S    ANCHOR. 


THE    SOUL'S    ANCHOR. 

OUR  life  is  like  the  changing  sea, 
Whose  foaming  billows  rise  and  fall, 

Obedient  to  the  great  decree 

Which  governs  all  things  great  and  small. 

* 

But  though  its  surges  high  may  roll, 
And  wildly  toss  our  trembling  bark, 

Yet  hope,  the  anchor  of  the  soul, 

Shall  hold  us  safe,  though  night  be  dark. 

That  power  which  rules  the  raging  sea, 

And  bids  the  waves  in  quiet  sleep, 
Shall  quickly  make  all  shadows  flee, 

While  holy  angels  near  us  keep. 

His  love  shall  cheer  our  roughest  way, 
When  to  our  hearts  no  joy  appears, 

Imparting  comfort  day  by  day, 

Which  soon  dispels  foreboding  fears. 

When  trials  like  thick  clouds  arise 

In  gloomy  sorrow's  dismal  night, 
And  darken  e'en  our  happiest  skies, 

WThen  life's  bright  star  would  shine  most  bright, 

Still  trusting  to  our  cable  sure, 

We  eager  watch  the  dawn  of  day, 
When  heavenly  light  with  rays  most  pure 

Shall  chase  all  shadows  far  away. 


THE     SOUL'S     ANCHOR.  221 

In  sailing  o'er  life's  trackless  main, 

Where  golden  sunbeams  peaceful  play, 

As  if  with  gems  at  home  again, 

Which  sparkle  through  the  livelong  day, 

How  oft  our  prospects,  seeming  fair, 

Are  blighted  like  a  rose  at  noon, 
Whose  dying  fragrance  charms  the  air, 

Whose  blushing  petals  wither  soon. 

E'en  so  our  fondest  hopes  decay, 

When  to  our  hearts  they  seem  secure, 

And  cherished  friends  fast  pass  away, 
Their  virtues  left  as  incense  pure. 

But  faith  still  looks  beyond  the  gloom, 

To  blest  Elysian  scenes  outspread, 
Where  beauty  yet  again  shall  bloom, 

When  quickened  from  the  slumbering  dead. 

When  unbelief  would  like  a  cloud 

Obscure  each  heavenly,  blissful  ray, 
Which  would  like  blessed  spirits  crowd 

Around  our  pathway  day  by  day, 

Then  Hope  lifts  up  the  darkening  veil 
That  hides  the  welcome  light  above, 

Whose  holy  influence  ne'er  shall  fail, 
Because  that  light  is  crowned  with  love. 


15 


222        THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLEST. 


THE   LAND   OF   THE   BLEST. 

How  often  I  think  of  the  land  of  the  blest 

Where  the  pilgrim,  so  faint  and  so  weary,  shall  rest 

From  his  labor,  his  troubles,  his  fears,  and  his  care, 

Forever  content  with  the  peace  which  flows  there, 

Like  a  river  abounding,  unfailing,  and  sure, 

As  the  words  which  have  promised  shall  ever  endure. 

His  journey  so  rough  through  this  wilderness  state 

He  now  longs  to  end  at  the  bright  pearly  gate, 

Where  his  burden  so  grievous  shall  quickly  be  lost, 

Which  often  much  sorrow  and  anguish  has  cost ; 

Where  blest  angels  attend  on  their  errands  of  love, 

E'er  rejoicing  to  guide  through  the  mansions  above, 

Oft  folding  their  wings  in  their  gladness  to  stay, 

To  rehearse  some  new  theme  causing  transport  each  day,  — 

Where  sweet  music  celestial  so  charms  the  glad  ear, 

As  mortals  ne'er  dreamed  in  bright  visions  to  hear, 

Where  the  river  of  life  with  its  pure  crystal  stream 

Merry  dances  along  with  its  blessings  between, 

Those  prophetical  trees  with  their  foliage  so  green, 

And  their  twelve  kinds  of  fruit  which  there  monthly  are  seen, 

E'er  distilling  rich  odors  from  blossom  and  leaf, 

And  a  pure  healthful  balm  for  the  nations'  relief; 

Where  pleasures  unnumbered,  and  beauties  untold, 

'Mid  walls  richly  jewelled,  and  pavements  of  gold 

Shall  constantly  burst  on  his  wondering  eyes, 

With  the  unrivalled  bliss  of  that  blest  paradise. 

Not  a  tear  will  be  there,  for  their  fount  will  be  dry, 
And  no  sorrow  to  cause  e'en  one  murmuring  sigh, 


THE    LAND     OF    THE    BLEST.  223 

No  long  sickness  to  waste,  and  no  pain  to  distress, 
No  misfortunes  to  mourn,  and  no  foes  to  oppress, 
No  errors  to  grieve,  nor  temptations  annoy, 
No  sad,  silent  grief  to  diminish  our  joy, 
Not  a  long,  painful  day,  nor  a  wearisome  night, 
No  weakness  of  vision,  nor  losing  of  sight, 
No  privations,  nor  losses,  nor  evils  to  bear, 
Nor  forebodings  of  ill,  the  first-fruits  of  despair, 
All,  all  will  be  tranquil  and  joyous  and  bright, 
In  the  beautified  earth,  filled  with  glory  and  light. 

There  no  grief  shall  e'er  banish  our  pleasures  away, 
No  perplexing  anxieties  prolong  their  delay, 
No  absence  from  friends,  for  all  partings  are  o'er, 
No  unguarded  sentence  in  vain  to  deplore, 
No  sin  to  molest  our  calm  peace  and  content, 
Where  no  chastening  rod  of  affliction  is  sent ; 
There  envy  and  hatred  no  more  can  annoy, 
Nor  the  enemy,  death,  our  fond  hopes  e'er  destroy ; 
Then  most  truly  that  land  is  a  land  of  sweet  rest, 
Where  the  weary  shall  find  a  bright  home  with  the  blest, 
And  I,  as  a  pilgrim,  now  burdened,  would  long, 
With  the  ransomed  to  raise  loud  the  conqueror's  song, 
Who  shall  triumph  forever  o'er  death  and  the  grave, 
And  bright  crowns  of  rejoicing  eternally  have, 
With  blest  angels  to  share  in  the  conquest  above, 
And  with  Jesus  himself  in  the  Eden  of  love. 


224  VIOLETS. 


VIOLETS. 

EARTH  so  long,  long  dressed  in  ermine, 

Prized  as  with  a  royal  care, 
Now  has  changed  her  wintry  mantle, 

For  her  emerald  robes  most  fair ; 
Lakes  have  oped  their  crystal  eyelids, 

Peeping  out  to  view  the  scene, 
While  impatient  in  their  bondage, 

Beauteous  things  have  lain  unseen. 

Well  I  love  the  blooming  spring-time, 

Coming  with  his  sweet  bequest,  — 
Fragrant  leaves  and  blushing  blossoms, 

To  be  welcomed  as  a  guest ; 
Beauty  then  unbidden  lingers 

Round  each  petal,  leaf,  and  stem, 
Prized  by  those  who  see  their  glory, 

As  a  bride  a  brilliant  gem. 

Then  I  love  to  wander  freely, 

When  the  new-born  light  appears, 
Through  the  meads  and  flowery  valleys 

As  in  boyhood's  early  years, 
Drinking  in  the  balmy  fragrance, 

Wafted  by  the  gentle  breeze, 
As  an  offering  pure  and  welcome, 

From  the  ever-whispering  trees. 

Wild-flowers  then  with  joy  I  gather, 
With  the  crystal  dew-drops  wet, 

Showing  preference,  and  most  gladly, 
To  the  modest  violet ; 


VIOLETS.  225 


Unpretending,  unassuming, 
These,  my  1  ttle  pets,  are  seen, 

Quite  unconscious  of  the  glory 
Which  adorns  the  hillocks  green. 

Often  crushed  beneath  my  footsteps, 

When  on  schoolboy's  rambling  tour, 
Even  then  my  heart  yearned  kindly 

All  their  beauty  to  restore  ; 
Now  I  prize  them  more  than  ever, 

On  each  welcome  sunny  morn, 
On  their  mossy  turrets  posted, 

Sentinels  to  hail  the  dawn. 

So  true  goodness  must  we  cherish, 

When  unconscious  of  its  power 
We  behold  a  charming  fragrance 

Sweet  distilling  hour  by  hour, 
Blessing  all  with  generous  bounty, 

Soon  reflected  from  above, 
Leading  us  with  grateful  praises 

To  the  source  of  purest  Love. 


226  THE     ADVENT     BELL. 


THE    ADVENT    BELL. 


THE  Advent  bell,  the  Advent  bell, 
How  sweetly  all  its  pealings  tell 
The  glorious  morn  is  drawing  near, 
When  Zion's  King  will  soon  appear, 
Exalted  by  his  Father's  hand, 
To  take  the  great  supreme  command. 

Though  on  this  earth  he  once  has  died, 
He  has  the  hosts  of  sin  defied, 
And  rose  triumphant  o'er  the  grave, 
Each  willing,  humble  soul  to  save ; 
And  yet  again  will  soon  appear, 
When  dawns  the  blest  prophetic  year. 

As  "  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords," 
Will  he  make  known  his  sovereign  words ; 
Each  promise  to  his  saints  fulfil, 
Who  have  performed  his  righteous  will ; 
And  to  their  joyful,  wondering  eyes 
Will  ope  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

How  welcome  do  the  tidings  come 
To  weary  pilgrims  travelling  home, 
That  all  the  "  signs  "  with  truth  portend 
Their  tribulations  soon  will  end ; 
Their  sorrows  change  to  rapturous  joy,  — 
Eternal  praise  each  tongue  employ. 

The  Advent  bell,  the  Advent  bell ; 
Still  shall  its  heavenly  music  swell, 


THE    ADVENT     BELL.  227 

The  earnest  prayer  of  saints  below, 
Who  would  to  their  blest  mansions  go, 
Till  every  weeping,  longing  eye 
Shall  view  their  Saviour  in  the  sky. 

Kesplendent  glory  then  will  shine 
Around  the  Heir  of  David's  line  ; 
And  every  tongue,  and  every  knee, 
Shall  all  fulfil  the  great  decree  ; 
The  pomp  of  earth  shall  fade  away, 
Like  morning  dew,  in  that  great  day. 

Then  will  the  Conqueror  on  His  throne, 
His  patient,  waiting  people  own, 
And  royal  robes  of  state  prepare, 
For  all  who  shall  his  glory  share ; 
Himself  shall  serve  each  happy  guest, 
Reclining  near  His  loving  breast. 

The  heavenly  choirs  anew  will  sing 
Loud  anthems  to  their  new-made  King, 
While  loud  through  all  the  ransomed  throng 
Shall  sound  the  coronation  song :  — 
"  Let  Christ  the  glorious  Saviour  reign, 
Let  heaven  repeat  his  praise  again." 

The  Advent  bell,  the  Advent  bell ; 
O,  let  its  echoes  quickly  tell 
This  burdened,  groaning  earth  around, 
The  welcome  news,  —  the  joyful  sound, 
That  "  Christ  the  second  time  has  come, 
To  take  his  weary  exiles  home." 


228  TO     LOR  ALE  A. 


TO    LORALEA. 

MAY  angels  of  mercy  attend  on  thy  way, 
E'er  to  guide  thee  aright,  lest  oft  erring  you  stray, 
And  to  cause  from  thy  heart  every  sorrow  to  flee, 
Heavenly  blessings  delighting  to  bring  unto  thee, 
On  thy  pilgrimage  homeward  to  Zion  most  fair, 
As  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  who  longs  to  be  there. 

Around  thy  fair  brow  may  contentment  and  peace 

Pure  offerings  wreathe,  all  most  pure  with  increase, 

To  give  to  thy  innocent  life  every  joy, 

O'erflowing  thy  chalice,  unmixed  with  alloy, 

In  thy  mission  below,  amid  pleasures  or  pain 

Ne'er  turn  from  the  right,  though  great  wealth  be  thy  gain, 

Encouraged  to  duty  by  love's  gentle  voic?, 

Thus  making  the  paths  of  blest  wisdom  your  choice, 

Transferring  thy  heart's  best  affections  on  high, 

E'er  seeking  thy  home  where  thy  treasures  shall  lie. 

Then  knowledge,  and  virtue,  and  goodness,  and  truth, 

Encircled  with  promise  shall  gladden  thy  youth, 

New  springs  of  enjoyment  revealing  each  day 

New  sources  of  pleasure  enlivening  thy  way, 

So,  joyous  and  peaceful,  sweet  rest  shall  be  given, 

And  a  crown  gemmed  with  light  in  the  mansions  of  heaven. 


STILL     HOPE    FOR     THE     BEST.  229 


STILL    HOPE    FOR    THE    BEST. 

THE  morn  of  thy  life  may  prove  sunny  and  clear, 
And  prospects  grow  brighter  with  each  rolling  year, 
Sweet  flowers  may  smile  all  thy  pathway  along, 
And  hearta  tuned  in  concert  respond  to  thy  song ; 
Eejoice  in  thy  pleasures  with  innocence  blest, 
Remember  thy  mercies !  —  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  day  still  advancing,  each  hour  may  prove 
Thy  noon  the  enjoyment  of  faith  and  of  love, 
And  Hope  with  its  brilliant  and  beautiful  rays 
May  lighten  thy  path,  and  give  peace  to  thy  days ; 
In  all  things  give  thanks,  with  contentment  e'er  blest, 
Forget  not  thy  weakness !  —  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  shadow  declining,  dark  clouds  may  arise, 
And  tears  of  deep  anguish  may  flow  from  thine  eyes, 
The  bramble  may  flourish  where  roses  once  grew, 
And  enemies  boast  where  kind  friends  were  once  true ; 
Though  thy  heart  may  despond,  by  sad  trials  opprest, 
Faint  not,  nor  be  weary !  —  still  hope  for  the  best. 

Though  earth  may  look  dreary,  and  darkness  surround 

Those  scenes  where  we  hoped  joy  and  peace  would  be  found 

And  kindness  and  sympathy  fail  to  bestow 

That  comfort  the  sufferer  most  wishes  below ; 

Though  thy  days  pass  in  gloom,  by  drear  bondage  distrest, 

Yet  trust  to  the  future  !  —  still  hope  for  the  best. 

Thy  pilgrimage,  Christian  !  will  soon  have  an  end, 
Angel-guards  even  now  on  thy  footsteps  attend, 


230  I    AM    WEARY     OP     STAYING. 

To  guide  thee  through  dangers  unseen  on  thy  way,  — 
To  comfort,  to  strengthen,  to  cheer  thee  each  day  ; 
Endure  then  thy  conflicts !  —  for  soon  thou  shalt  rest, 
The  conquest  is  certain,  —  still  hope  for  the  best. 

The  tried  sons  of  Zion  will  shortly  come  forth, 
From  east  and  from  west,  from  south  and  from  north, 
To  claim  in  those  mansions  of  glory  above 
That  abode  where  shall  reign  the  perfection  of  love ; 
The  warfare  accomplished,  the  saints  then  shall  rest, 
Forever  triumphant,  —  then  hope  for  the  best. 


I    AM    WEARY    OF    STAYING. 

I  AM  weary  of  staying,  O  soon  let  me  rest 
In  that  beautiful  land  which  is  made  for  the  blest, 
Let  me  dwell  in  those  mansions  of  glory  and  light, 
Where  pleasures  untold  shall  my  sorrows  requite. 

I  am  weary  of  staying,  O  let  my  pains  cease, 

Let  my  spirit  from  bondage  obtain  its  release, 

Let  me  revel  forever  in  blessed  repose, 

With  that  ecstatic  bliss  which  the  pure  seraph  knows. 

I  am  weary  of  earth,  and  I  wish  to  go  home, 

For  where  lies  my  treasure  no  evils  can  come  ; 

Though  bright  scenes  are  here  found,  which  invite  my  delay, 

A  future  more  glorious  forbids  me  to  stay. 

I  am  weary  of  staying  alone  in  thick  gloom, 
Like  a  prisoner  in  darkness,  as  still  as  the  tomb, 
Bereft  of  warm  sunshine,  which  gladdens  the  day,  — 
Of  the  moon's  silver  beams  which  chase  shadows  away. 


I    AM     WEARY     OF     STAYING.  231 

I  am  weary  of  sadness,  I  wish  to  be  free 

To  enjoy  those  delights  which  perpetual  will  be,  — 

The  bliss  of  the  sanctified,  most  truly  blest, 

Where  the  weak  shall  be  strong,  and  the  weary  shall  rest. 

I  am  weary  of  sighing,  O  let  my  tears  cease, 
Let  their  fountain  be  dry  ;  let  me  find  my  release  ; 
Over  grief  and  temptations  and  trials  and  sin, 
A  triumph  for  aye  let  me  gloriously  win. 

Deprived  of  those  innocent  pleasures  which  all 
Delight  from  fond  memory's  page  to  recall ; 
I  long  to  drink  deeply  from  life-giving  peace,  — 
From  heaven's  pure  fountain  which  never  shall  cease. 

My  mind,  long  oppressed  with  my  sorrows  and  pain, 
Oft  strives,  but  in  vain,  its  old  freedom  to  gain, 
And  my  body,  as  if  it  were  doing  my  will, 
As  steadfastly  shuns  my  glad  wish  to  fulfil. 

But  when  to  earth's  scenes  I  shall  once  bid  adieu, 
And  all  evils  terrestrial  shall  fade  from  my  view, 
With  a  glorified  body  and  mind  to  compare, 
I  shall  triumph  o'er  sickness  and  troubles  and  care. 

Yes,  made  like  the  angels,  for  such  is  the  word, 
To  die  nevermore,  but  free  as  a  bird 
Escaped  from  its  prison,  a  captive  while  here, 
I  shall  roam  with  delight,  with  no  bondage,  to  fear. 

Where  sweet  flowing  streamlets  through  pastures  most  green, 
Dance  gayly  along  pleasant  valleys  between, 
I  shall  joy  with  my  Shepherd  forever  to  roam 
Through  the  enchanted  scenes  of  that  beautiful  home. 


232  I    AM     WEARY     OF     STAYING. 

I 

I  shall  gaze  on  the  beauties  of  earth  then  made  new, 
With  that  transport  and  peace  which  the  world  never  knew, 
I  shall  cull  the  sweet  flowers,  and  in  them  then  see 
Delectable  things  never  dreamed  of  by  me. 


Fair  landscapes  all  changing  with  rich,  varied  hue, 
A  charm  most  delightful  shall  add  to  our  view. 
Mid  zephyrs  all  laden  with  odors  most  sweet 
From  new  blushing  blossoms  our  senses  shall  greet. 

In  palaces  gorgeous  I  long  soon  to  dwell, 
Whose  pure  jasper  walls  are  all  garnished  so  well, 
Whose  splendors  unrivalled  so  meet  the  glad  eye, 
That  we  never  could  wish  from  such  glory  to  fly. 

Health,  beauty,  and  holiness  reign  all  around, 
While  all  that  can  please  in  profusion  is  found  ; 
No  thorn  to  afflict,  and  not  one  bitter  tear 
E'er  in  secret  can  fall  to  mar  pleasure  so  dear. 

I  am  weary  of  staying,  soon  let  me  depart, 

For  visions  celestial  have  ravished  my  heart, 

I  long  to  put  off,  as  a  garment,  all  sin, 

And  to  glories  transcendent,  through  Christ,  enter  in. 


I    LONG    TO     GO    HOME.  233 


I    LONG    TO    GO    HOME. 

I  LONG  to  go  home,  for  too  long  I  delay 
In  a  strange  foreign  land,  where  by  night  and  by  day 
Temptations  most  grievous  my  progress  withstand, 
As  onward  I  haste  to  the  beautiful  land. 

I  long  to  go  home,  for  I  gladly  would  rest 

From  evils  by  which  I  have  long  been  distrest ; 

As  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  I  look  with  delight 

For  the  end  of  my  journey  with  prospects  most  bright. 

I  long  to  go  home,  for  I  would  not  delay 
To  add  to  my  march  but  the  length  of  a  day ; 
The  glimpse  I  have  had  of  that  glorious  land 
Makes  me  eager  amid  all  its  beauties  to  stand. 

The  night  is  far  spent  with  its  sorrows  and  fears, 
Where  strength  has  been  gained  amid  trials  and  tears  ; 
The  (Jay  is  just  breaking,  the  sun  I  behold 
Through  fair  shining  portals  its  glories  unfold. 

The  cloudlets  of  grief  here  no  longer  now  stay, 
As  his  bright,  shining  arrows  chase  darkness  away ; 
My  mind's  sky  is  clear  like  a  rose-tinted  morn, 
When  flowers  look  upward,  when  beauty  is  born. 

I  long  to  go  home,  to  my  dear  Father's  home, 
Where  his  children  all  gathered  with  transport  shall  come  ! 
With  hearts  firm,  united  with  love's  blissful  chain, 
Whose  links  death  can  never  dissever  again. 


234  I     LONG    TO     GO     HOME. 

I  rise  on  the  pinions  of  faith  like  a  dove, 
Bound  homeward  to  carry  its  message  of  love  ; 
I  gaze  on  the  prize  as  it  glistens  afar, 
Encircled  with  light  as  a  true  guiding  star. 

I  eagerly  long  that  blest  country  to  see, 
Where  glorified  spirits  are  waiting  for  me, 
And  meet  with  those  loved  ones,  who,  little  before, 
Passed  gently  away  to  the  heavenly  shore. 

Already  there  falls  on  my  glad,  listening  ear 
Pure  anthems  celestial,  most  welcome  to  hear ; 
And  I  long  to  be  swelling  the  chorus  sublime 
Which  shall  echo,  as  now,  through  the  portals  of  time. 

My  journey  is  ending,  and  almost  at  home 

I  hear  angel  voices,  like  blest  spirits,  come 

To  beckon  me  on  to  that  heavenly  rest, 

Where  all  trouble  shall  end  and  the  weary  are  blest. 


LET    ME    REST.  235 


LET    ME     REST. 

LET  me  rest  soon  in  peace.     I  am  weary  of  earth, 
Where  tears  have  their  fountain,  and  sorrows  have  birth; 
Let  me  cease  from  my  labors,  and  find  that  repose 
Which  in  heaven  the  glorified  soul  ever  knows. 

Let  me  rest  from  all  trouble  ;  for  pain  is  my  lot, 
Since  darkness  has  clouded  life's  sunniest  spot. 
In  vain  do  bright  flowers  blush  kindly  for  me, 
For  their  beautiful  petals  I  never  may  see. 

Let  me  rest  from  all  trial,  all  sadness  and  sin, 
To  eternal  felicity  soon  enter  in, 
To  enjoy  then  forever  with  purest  delight 
Those  wonders  which  ever  shall  gladden  my  sight. 

Let  the  friends,  as  they  come  to  my  cold,  silent  bier, 
Leave  a  flower,  but  bring  not  a  sigh  nor  a  tear ; 
Let  them  keep  in  fond  memory  my  poor,  humble  name, 
Not  lost  to  affection,  though  dead  to  earth's  fame. 

I  wish  to  be  laid  in  my  last,  silent  sleep, 
Where  in  quiet  repose  dewy  violets  weep 
Their  diamond  tears  on  each  fair  summer's  morn, 
As  a  tribute  most  pure  my  lone  grave  to  adorn. 

Let  birdlings  come  near  to  my  emerald  bed, 

And  joyously  sport  over  the  slumbering  dead. 

Let  them  break  the  long  silence  with  clear,  liquid  song, 

As  echoes  borne  earthward  from  Heaven's  glad  throng. 


236  LET    ME    KEST. 

Let  sunshine  play  o'er  me  through  tall  waving  trees  ; 
Let  anthems  be  sung  by  the  murmuring  breeze  ; 
Let  nature  around  me  look  happy  and  gay, 
To  drive  every  vestige  of  gloom  far  away. 

I  would  leave  such  a  blessing  of  sanctified  peace 
As  would  savor  of  heaven  and  bid  sorrow  cease ; 
I  would  smooth  the  rough  pathway  of  those  left  below, 
And  life's  sweetest  gifts  on  them  ever  bestow. 


THE    END. 


YB  13745 


Ml 89009 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


